


Homelands

by stellarose



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, AvaLance, Endgame Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe, F/F, Finding Love, Human Gideon (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), Protective Sara Lance, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24367459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarose/pseuds/stellarose
Summary: Ava Sharpe joined the civil service to make a difference, not to make friends. Sara Lance joined the foreign service for daring adventures and a few good stories to tell, though unfortunately not everyone has the security clearance to hear them.They find themselves stationed in Berlin, surrounded by a society where being themselves could get them deported at best, disappeared at worst, and with war against the whole world looming on the horizon. In a city that ten years earlier could have offered them everything, it now only offers threats and fear, and they are faced with a question: stay out of duty, or leave for love?
Relationships: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe
Comments: 95
Kudos: 186





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No major historical events have been changed. Any character given a name who is not someone from the Arrowverse is a real person, though I'm not sure how many of those there'll end up being. 
> 
> Tags, rating and warning likely to be updated as the story goes along, but I'll make note of any such changes in the notes box on the corresponding chapter.
> 
> I am also uploading this on ff.net. Kudos and comments are much appreciated :) I will respond to any questions, theories, etc.

Thursday, 18th November, 1937.

Ava heard laughter on the stairs and sighed. She liked to take the back service stairs in the hope of avoiding other people. A moment later she recognised one of the voices coming down, and deciding to continue on her way up, holding protectively onto her file of visa applications. She rounded another flight of stairs and came face-to-face with Agent Nate Heywood and a very pretty blonde woman.

“Good morning, Miss Sharpe,” Nate said, dressed in his usual houndstooth jacket, which Ava thought was much too casual to wear in the Embassy, but no one else seemed to mind, most likely on account of who his father was. “Looks like another busy morning on the visa front,” he smiled his perfect smile and nodded to the file her arms.

“At this rate, Berlin will be empty in a year or two,” Ava said, attempting a joke and trying to ignore the woman’s gaze, having the peculiar sensation that the woman was undressing her with her eyes. Ava was wearing her regular neat navy blue jacket and skirt, white silk blouse and sensible shoes, her hair pulled into its usual low bun, and her practical leather-strap watch was her only accessory. That was quite the contrast to the other woman, who was wearing full make-up, her hair in loose curls that looked as though they were falling out, an evening gown poking out below her well-cut coat, glittering earrings, rings on most fingers, and high heels. Something told Ava that the woman hadn’t been home since the previous evening.

“Miss Sharpe, this is Captain Lance,” Nate said, introducing the two women. “Miss Sharpe works in visas,” he explained to Captain Lance. Ava had met a lot of people during her years in the foreign service, but never a female Captain.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Captain Lance said, a small smirk on her face, holding out her hand to Ava.

“Likewise,” Ava said, adjusting the folder in her arms to shake the woman’s hand.

“I’ll let you go, Nate. Give Amaya my regards, and, yes,” the Captain said and smiled at a look Nate gave her, “You have my address, so she can send me the time and date and I’ll be there. I have missed her. Right, time for a nap, then I’m having lunch with Gideon, if you want to join us,” she said, directing to offer to Nate.

“I’ve got a meeting at midday, and with the Ambassador involved, I can see it running overtime.”

“I’ll pass along your apology then. I’m reestablishing Friday night drinks too. I can’t believe you all let that fall to the wayside. I’ll be sure admonish Gideon.”

Nate chuckled. “It’s good to have you back, Captain. You’ve been sorely missed in these parts.”

“I’ve missed being here,” the Captain said, and yawned. “All right, bedtime. See you later, Nate. Miss Sharpe.”

“See you round, Captain,” Nate said.

Ava just stared as the other woman walked down the stairs. “I don’t know how she doesn’t break her ankle in those heels,” Ava muttered to Nate as Captain Lance disappeared from sight. “Who is she, anyway?”

“You don’t know Sara?” Nate asked.

“Should I?” Ava asked.

“I forget you’ve only been in Berlin for a few months because you know everything that goes on around here,” Nate teased as they walked up the stairs. “Folks like Colonel Bennett will refer to her as a ‘necessary inconvenience’ or some such ridiculous term. They never said things like that about Agent Queen,” Nate shook his head. “Anyway, Sara is a liaison officer between us and British Embassy around the corner.”

“Is she one of us or one of them?” Ava asked, as Sara Lance had clearly had an American accent, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t an act.

“Both, actually,” Nate said. “She was born there, but her family moved to the US when she was a little kid, and she grew up in Star City. Technically, dual citizens aren’t supposed to have roles like hers, but the rules don’t really apply when it comes to Sara Lance. I’m just glad she’s back in Berlin.”

The reached the landing third floor where their respective offices were, and Nate held the door open for Ava.

“Does she regularly show up here after a night out without changing first?” Ava asked, not sure why she was so intrigued by this woman, but found herself imagining some of the things this so-called Captain Lance might get up to judging by her appearance, and not thinking very much of them.

“Considering she didn’t show up here until after nine o’clock makes me think she was off reporting back to Gideon first, but who can blame her? Gideon’s a lot easier on the eye than the mugs Captain Lance sees here,” Nate chuckled.

Ava felt a strange feeling that she couldn’t quite describe. “Why _Captain_ Lance? She can’t be military.”

Nate shrugged, stopping outside the door to Ava’s pokey office. “It’s an honorific. She’s more than deserved it, and if she were a he, it would be hers by right.”

“Oh,” Ava said, finding she still had questions about this Captain Lance, but decided any more would start to look peculiar. “Well, I’ll see you round,” she said, opening her office door.

“Yeah. Oh, and Ava?” Nate asked.

Ava paused, looking back.

“I don’t know what your plans are, but it’s Thanksgiving next week, and there’s a few of us who usually get together. It’s a mixed bag of folks from across the world with Gideon from across the Channel, the Tarazi siblings from Persia or Iran or whatever it’s called now, my lovely Zambesian wife, and, well, me, representing the nation that actually celebrates the holiday. And Captain Lance, most likely.”

“I - umm…”

“If you have other plans, that is completely fine,” Nate smiled. “But you would help even out the numbers of people for whom Thanksgiving is an actual important occasion.”

“No,” Ava said, the word coming out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “I mean, I have no other plans. That - that would be good, actually.”

“Great,” Nate grinned. “I’ll tell Gideon to add you to the restaurant booking. I get you the name of the place we go, but let me go double-check the spelling and the street number. It’s not exactly a turkey dinner, but it’s about being with friends, right?”

“Yeah,” Ava said. “And umm, it’ll be nice to write to my mother and tell her I actually have plans for Thanksgiving.”

Nate chuckled, understanding Ava’s comment. They were both only-children, and both deemed to be extremely disappointing by their respective families on account of not being married with children in Ava’s case, and of dropping out of the military, getting a PhD in history, teaching for two years, then joining the foreign service and marrying the daughter of the Zambesian Ambassador in Nate’s case. “Ah yes, the eternal disappointment we provide our parents,” he chuckled.

“Well,” Ava smiled, grateful for Nate’s understanding, “We do try.”

“We really do,” Nate winked.

…

“Captain Lance, as I live and breathe,” Gideon said, holding out her arms.

Sara welcomed Gideon’s embrace, wrapping her arms around her friend and mentor. “I’m only living and breathing because of you. Lunch is on me. Forever.”

Gideon chuckled, “How about every Thursday, starting today, naturally.”

Sara smiled as they entered the restaurant. It was small enough for Gideon and Sara to know all the staff and all the regulars, but not too small that they could be easily overheard. And with so many foreign embassies, no one thought twice about people speaking in languages of than German. “All right. And we’re reestablishing Friday night drinks. I can’ believe you let that fall aside.”

“You’ve been gone for 18 months. Ray left less than a month after you, Leo at the end of ’35, then Nate and Amaya went on honeymoon for three months. We all got busy. Besides, it wasn’t the same without you.”

“Aww, I’m the glue that hold you all together,” Sara said.

Gideon rolled her eyes. “Don’t go getting that full of yourself. One night back in the city and you’re already creating a stir.”

“Not all of the Powers That Be are the Powers That Were 18 months ago, I needed to get reacquainted,” Sara with a wink, as the waiter came and poured them a glass of water.

“The atmosphere has changed, you need to be careful,” Gideon warned, not worried about this waiter, as he only understood German and a little bit of Danish.

“I’m always careful. Especially now. It was fun to get back out there and get a feel for the scene. You’re right though, it definitely feels different, and completely different from the first time I was here. Berlin in ’31 was a whole different world to this,” Sara said.

Gideon sighed, “A whole different regime, that’s what it was. Time to order?”

“I am famished. I missed breakfast.”

“Did you get any sleep?” Gideon asked, summoning the waiter with a wave.

“A few hours just now. It’ll be an early night, that’s for sure. I haven’t done an all-nighter since before, well, you know.”

Gideon nodded and they gave their orders to the waiter. “So, how are our friends in Pariser Platz?” she asked.

“Oh, I haven’t called on the French yet,” Sara smirked, taking a big drink of water.

Gideon rolled her eyes and Sara chuckled.

“I saw Nate,” Sara said, “He’s definitely in for Friday night drinks. And said you were organising Thanksgiving dinner? Put me down for that too, please.”

“Naturally,” Gideon said.

The waiter delivered their beers.

“Ah, beer thick enough to chew,” Sara smiled, taking a sip of the dark brew. “What do you know about the new girl in visas?” Sara asked, thinking about the stern, conservative-looking woman she’d met in the stairwell.

“Do you mean Miss Ava Sharpe, of Fresno, California?” Gideon asked, sipping at her beer.

“I believe I might,” Sara said. There was nothing about anyone in any of the English-speaking embassies that Gideon didn’t know. “I met her in the stairwell. Nate briefly introduced us. Does she always have a stick up her bum, or was she just in need of her morning coffee?”

“I believe the stick is permanent,” Gideon chuckled. “She takes her role in visa applications very seriously.”

“Well, to be fair, it’s not something you want to find out the official has messed up, especially not when faced with a couple of fellows with semi-automatic weapons at a border crossing,” Sara said.

“Touché,” Gideon said. “She doesn’t get out much. Or at all, really, though I have seen her walking in the Tiergarten a few times when the weather’s been fine. As far as I know, she has no family over here, and isn’t married.”

“Only to the job,” Sara said.

“Well, she wouldn’t be the only one,” Gideon said, raising her eyebrow.

“Yeah, but we made our own family,” Sara said.

“Captain Lance, are you getting soft on me?” Gideon teased.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Sara said. “Have you heard from Charlie?” Charlie was another one of Gideon’s protégés. She had been raised in a foundling home and pulled into a life of crime by her so-called sisters, completed a short stay in one of His Majesty’s lodges, but somehow Gideon had come across her once she’d been released. Gideon had taken Charlie under her wing and got her a position in the Foreign Office. No one suspected that the tea lady was reporting back to one of the secretaries at the Embassy in Berlin, though they would have been none too surprised to learn that said secretary was part of the SIS, as of course, was Sara Lance.

“Are you asking if I’ve heard that she’s settled back into life in Whitehall, and is quite happy that her nursing days are behind her? Her gossip is better than yours, I can assure you of that,” Gideon said.

“It always is,” Sara said, realising just how much she’d missed lunch with Gideon as the waiter came and placed their plates in front of them. “And this Miss Sharpe in visa applications?”

“Yes?” Gideon asked.

“Is she like our good Major Foley?”

“That, Miss Lance, is a very good question,” Gideon said, swallowing a mouthful of potatoes. “But she might be worth getting to know a bit better, especially if the Major needs a contact.”

“You don’t know?” Sara asked.

“The American’s don’t have an organisation like ours,” Gideon said, “So I’d say it’s unlikely, but not impossible. She’d be a useful asset inside your other house.”

“My loyalty is with you, not with the houses,” Sara said.

“I know that, Captain,” Gideon said, catching Sara’s eye, “But don’t let anyone else hear you say it too loudly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Sara and Ava's relationship is off to a bit of a rocky start, and Sara comes with a tragic backstory that we'll get to later on. 
> 
> SIS = Secret Intelligence Service, which during WWII became more commonly known as MI6.
> 
> Major Frank Foley is a genuine real-life hero, credited with saving the lives of thousands of German Jews by forging passports and visas, etc. He's worth looking up :)


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday, 25th November, 1937

Gideon had arranged for Thanksgiving dinner to be held in a private dining room above one of the group’s favourite restaurants. The table was set for seven, and Gideon had asked the kitchen for whatever poultry they could procure for the main course if turkey wasn’t available, and could apple pie please be served for dessert.

“I guess this place at the head of the table is reserved for me,” Zari Tarazi laughed as she and her brother Behrad entered the wood-panelled room, decorated with scenic paintings, and brass candelabras fitted with electric lights. Gideon and Sara had been first to arrive, Gideon wanting to be early to check that everything was in order, followed shortly afterwards by Nate and Amaya.

“You can sit wherever you like, Miss Tarazi,” Gideon said, playing hostess. “There’s some water, and apple juice in that decanter there.”

“You really do think of everything, don’t you Gideon?” Zari said as Nate passed her the crystal decanter filled with apple juice.

“It is my job,” Gideon replied, “And we’ll have dinner served shortly.”

“Excellent, because I am starving,” Behrad said.

“That’s the whole point of fasting, brother,” Zari said, pouring herself a drink.

“I’m glad you two are here,” Amaya said, greeting the siblings with a hug.

“You’re all invited to our Eid celebrations, so we are more than happy to come to your farm one, which tonight conveniently doubles as Iftar,” Zari said.

“Who are we waiting for?” Behrad asked, noticing a spare seat.

“That’s for Miss Sharpe from the Embassy,” Nate said. “She’s fairly new to Berlin, and I thought it would be hospitable to invite her along.”

“I bet she’s lost,” Sara mumbled, sipping at her wine.

“Or perhaps not,” Gideon said and stood up. “You must be Miss Sharpe,” she said, as Ava stepped tentatively into the dining room.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Ava said, shaking hands with Gideon. “And Ava is fine.”

Ava had been apprehensive in the lead up to Thanksgiving. Of course, it had been nice to write in her weekly letter to her mother that she actually had plans this year, and was awaiting the reply that would come in a week or two saying that hopefully there would be some nice, single gentleman for her to meet. Love didn’t matter by her age, so long as they got along well enough and he had a decent job. He didn’t even have to be American, but it really would be best if he was Christian. Ava had read every slight variation on her mother’s thoughts on the sort of man she should marry roughly once a month for the past decade, but she knew it was never going to happen.

“Of course,” Gideon said, despite the fact she had no intention of addressing Ava as anything but Miss Sharpe. “Mr Heywood you already know, of course, as well as Captain Lance, but we also have Mrs Heywood, Miss Tarazi and Mr Tarazi.”

Introductions were made, and Ava ended up seated between Zari and Sara. Sara was wearing a pretty blue dress with a sparking leaf-branch brooch, and Zari Tarazi was the most fashionably dressed woman Ava had ever seen in a perfectly tailored jacket and skirt, and she happily began telling Ava her whole life story, while Gideon pressed the discreet bell button to let the kitchen know they were ready for the first course.

“So your parents allow you to do whatever you want?” Ava asked, as the waiter removed their soup bowls. There didn’t seem to be a fashionable place that the sibling’s hadn’t visited, an event they hadn’t attended or high-ranking official they didn’t know. Their father was a high up in the management of the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company, and Ava could only dream of the salary he was making. Zari’s entertaining commentary throughout the soup course had meant that Ava hadn’t had need to talk to Miss Lance or say much very at all, other than the occasional question to encourage Zari along.

“We’re not allowed to leave Europe or get married, but pretty much anything else, yes.”

“Did you go to school in Europe?”

“I was at Roedean, Behrad at Eton. We both went to Cambridge.”

“You went to Cambridge?” Ava asked, increasingly astonished by fascinating woman beside her.

“Girton College,” Zari said, “Though despite getting better marks than Behrad, I only have a diploma, while he has a full degree. One day though, there’ll be more woman in the university than men, and not only that, they’ll be teaching and allowed to pursue decorates. Just you wait, Miss Sharpe.”

Ava smiled, sure Zari was lobbying for the rights of the next generation of women wishing to study for full degrees.

“Imagine one day going home as 'Doctor Zari',” Zari continued. “Not that I intend to do that much study, and I haven't been home since I was sixteen anyway, because of course if I set foot over there again, I’ll find myself in an arranged marriage before I can unpack my suitcase. It’s not quite the same for Behrad, he went back two years ago for a few months, but mama and baba soon started to get pushy on the marriage-and-grandchildren front. They don’t care what we do over here, and I guess everyone else over there forgets we exist, which on the whole is fine by me.”

“That’s convenient,” Ava said.

“So convenient,” Zari said. “And I don’t care if I never go back, because I’ll never let them force me into marrying.”

“I’m not really the marrying type either,” Ava said.

Zari ignored the comment and started recounting the tale of a large society wedding of a school friend that she and Behrad had attended in London in June. Sara, however, almost choked on her drink at Ava’s comment. She caught Gideon’s eye; Gideon raised her eyebrows and made no comment.

The meal went on, the party eating, drinking and feeling merry. The fireplace kept the small dining room warm, the food was always delivered hot, and the drinks were plentiful. Zari and Amaya were engaged in deep conversation, Behrad and Nate were discussing the merits of the new SS Jaguar 100 compared to the BMW 328, and Sara, Gideon and Ava were sticking to very neutral topics, including train travel and the weather.

“Miss Gideon - ”

“It’s just Gideon, please,” Gideon said, cutting Ava off.

“Technically, it’s Lady Gideon,” Sara teased in an exaggerated version of Gideon’s accent.

“Lady Gideon was my grandmother,” Gideon said, knowing Sara was trying to rile her up. “Technically, my title is Lady Elizabeth, since I am a lady in my own right, not by marriage. However,” she said, looking past Sara to Ava, “When I first got a job at the Foreign Office at the ripe old age of 16 during the Great War, my boss made it quite clear that he wasn’t going to be addressing me as ‘my lady’ every time he needed something, he wasn’t about to have a secretary named ‘Betty’, which I have never been referred to as in my life, and he was very much against double-barrelled surnames such as mine, so he shorted Lady Elizabeth Ryder-Gideon down to just Gideon. And it stuck. Very few people now refer to me as anything else.”

“Not to your face, anyway,” Sara chuckled.

Gideon ignored her.

“Oh,” Ava said, not sure if she was surprised that Gideon was part of the aristocracy or not. The way Gideon conducted herself, how she managed the staff at the restaurant, and the few things Nate had told Ava about Gideon made her realise it wasn’t very surprising at all. The most surprising thing was that even after all these years, Gideon was still someone else’s secretary.

Ava was soon pulled back into discussion with Zari and Amaya, and not long after dessert was served and eaten the party had to depart as it was already late and half of them had jobs to go to in the morning. Nate and Amaya escorted Ava home, while Gideon took Sara home in one of the British Embassy cars.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Sara said and yawned.

“You’re drunk.”

“No. I have just been having a couple of local German wines with my Thanksgiving dinner,” Sara said. “And some tasty imported patriotic bourbon.”

“You’re in a car, not a paddock, no need to shout,” said Gideon.

Sara laughed. “Also, you are a terrible person because you knew that Miss Sharpe was - ” Sara paused and tried to think of the right word.

“I didn’t know, but I had my suspicions,” Gideon said. “However, now I do know.”

“I know that she doesn’t like me.”

“You barely spoke to her. You just sat there getting increasingly drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Sara exclaimed and giggled.

“This is why we didn’t take the bus.”

“You’re drunk. As if you’ve taken the bus in your life.”

Gideon chuckled and shook her head.

“Well, it’s your fault,” Sara said, “You were paying. If you don’t want people to drink, serve worse alcohol. And it’s not my fault Miss Sharpe looks pretty when she actually relaxes and smiles.”

Gideon smiled. “I think you’d work well together,” she said.

“Doing what?” Sara said. “I do what I do, and she stamps paperwork. My papers are very much in order, thanks to you,” she said, leaning her head against Gideon’s shoulder and yawning again.

Gideon patted Sara’s hair. “I’m very glad you’re back, Captain Lance,” she said softly, “Very glad indeed.”

…

“Miss Sharpe?” Nate knocked on the door to Ava’s office before opening it.

“Good morning Mr Heywood,” Ava said. Despite the never-ending pile of paperwork in front of her, she was happy to see Nate’s smiling face.

“Did you have a good weekend?” Nate asked. “Amaya loved meeting you the other night. She said it’s always nice to see women working their way up the establishment ladder. Her country is much more matriarchal, and in a way she’s still getting used to the rest of the gentleman-infested world,” he said and laughed.

“It was lovely to meet her too,” Ava said. “She’s very nice. And Zari and Behrad. Zari certainly has a lot to say.”

“She does love an audience,” Nate said.

“And Gideon was not at all what I was expecting,” Ava confessed.

Nate chuckled. “Yeah. Gideon is very much one-of-a-kind. As is Captain Lance.”

“She didn’t say much,” Ava said. When she’d been seated beside Miss Lance, she’d been expecting the woman to interrogate her, not ignore her for most of the evening. Besides, she knew Miss Lance wasn’t shy, and definitely didn’t have trouble talking to strange people. The previous Monday Ava had seen Miss Lance in the Embassy foyer speaking to Sergeant Rory, who was part of the security detail. Ava was sure she’d never heard the Sergeant speak, much less heard him smile or laugh, so she was very surprised to see him engaged in conversation with Miss Lance. He even smiled, laughed and shaken her hand. Ava had walked away shaking her head and wondering about this bizarre hold Miss Lance seemed to have over everyone.

“Eh, celebrations like Thanksgiving aren’t always her thing,” Nate said.

Ava nodded, getting the feeling there was a lot more to Miss Lance that Nate either wouldn’t or couldn’t tell her, or simply didn’t have all the information himself. “Well, thank-you for inviting me,” Ava said. “I’ll let you know what my mother says in reply to my letter telling her about it.”

Nate laughed. “If she wants to marry you off to Behrad, I am happy to officiate.”

Ava laughed. “He seems like a great guy, but I think that would be one of history’s worst matches.”

“Oh, 100 per cent,” Nate said. “I love the man to bits, but you and he are chalk and cheese. I better go before the Ambassador comes looking for me. Oh, and if you see Mr Green, point him in the direction of my office. I have some indecipherable scribbles for him to type. See you later, Miss Sharpe.”

Nate closed the door behind himself and Ava sighed. She still didn’t know why she cared so much that Miss Lance had ignored her for most of the evening. Ava took the stamps out of the draw and decided to occupy her mind with work instead.

…

“All right Gideon! What have you got for me?” Sara asked, swinging the door wipe open as she let herself into Gideon’s office before closing the door again with a bang.

“Have I ever told you about a little process called knocking before entering?” Gideon asked, taking off her glasses. “If not, remind me to explain it to you one day.”

Sara grinned and sat down on the edge of Gideon’s desk. “What have we got?”

“The usual week of events that will bore you, meetings to drive you mad, and appointments with people with whom you will have nothing in common.”

“We usually have an attraction to pretty girls in common,” Sara said, grabbing the weekly schedule off Gideon’s desk and scanning over it. “That’s often a good starting point. Or pretty gentlemen. Sometimes that’s the starter.”

“Remember what country you’re in, Captain. Comments like that can get you arrested.”

“Technically, right now, in your office, I’m in Britain, so no, I wouldn’t be. Don’t worry, Gideon,” Sara said, seeing the concerned look on Gideon’s face. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise.”

Gideon sighed.

“Something’s wrong?” Sara asked.

“This is not to be repeated, but know you’ll understand what I mean when I say that I am very glad Mr Palmer is settled in Paris,” Gideon said.

“He’s more than just settled. He’s got un petit-déjeuner. I mean une petite amie.”

“I know,” Gideon said. “So he’ll be happy to stay there, but I don’t think he’d appreciate you confusing his girlfriend with breakfast.”

“Shut-up, I’ve had coffee but haven’t eaten yet. Breakfast is on my mind,” Sara laughed. “But who knows, perhaps Ray does eat her for breakfast,” she winked and lowering her voice an octave.

Gideon rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You are being terrible. Anyway, I did a full background check on your Miss Sharpe, and she’s completely clean. Clean to the point of being a bit dull, really.”

“She’s not my anything,” Sara scowled, “And why run check her history?”

“If she’s to become a regular with our little band, I needed to make sure wasn’t a plant.”

“Fair enough.”

“Invite her to the New Years Ball.”

“What, why? No. You do it. She wouldn’t want to come.”

Gideon stood up. “Trust me, Captain. She’ll come.”

“What are you up to?” Sara asked.

“Why would you suspect I’m up to anything?” Gideon asked.

“You can’t bullshit me, Gideon. You might have had Whitehall wrapped around your little finger by the time you were eighteen, but I know your games.”

“I only had Whitehall at my beck-and-call at that age because everyone who was anyone was over in France with the Great War, and those left were senile, stupid or both. And you can’t hide it when you’re fancying someone, Captain.”

“I don’t fancy her,” Sara said.

“All right then. Don’t invite her to the ball. Leave the dull, lonely girl alone.”

“She’s not dull. And I know what you’re doing, Gideon.”

“I should hope so, Captain,” Gideon said, taking Sara by the arm. “Come on, let’s go get you some breakfast before you cause a diplomatic crisis before morning tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 1937, Ramadan was 5-30 November. 


	3. Chapter 3

Wednesday, 22nd December, 1937

Was it really so impossible, Ava thought to herself as she took the back stairs up to her office, for people coming to make visa and passport applications to have the correct documentation? Why spend hours queuing, but not bring the correct personal identification documentation and current, complete paperwork to correctly fill out the forms? It was the same when she’d been working in Washington DC, it was the same in Munich, and it was the same in Berlin. It didn’t matter where the people came from, their social class, background, culture, or religion, they still seemed perpetually unable to organise themselves, and seemed to be doing it with the express intention of making her life more difficult.

Ava reached the top of the stairs and opened the door into the corridor. She needed lunch, and mostly certainly did not need Sara Lance lurking in the corridor outside her office door.

“Ava Sharpe!” Sara grinned, wearing a green Tyrolean hat with her blonde curls poking out beneath it and long grey coat with black collar, cuffs and lapels, looking like quite the Aryan poster-girl.

“Miss Lance.”

“Captain.”

“Mmm,” Ava grumbled, brushing past Sara to get to her office.

“Busy day on the visa desk?”

“Busy year. Why are you wearing a Tyrolean hat?”

“It’s Christmas,” Sara said as though that was a perfectly reasonable answer. “The locals haven’t added Tyrolean hat wearers to the list of the persecuted yet, have they? Are you taking any time off? Christmas is your thing, right?”

Ava sighed. Why Sara have to choose now to spark up a conversation? Couldn’t she see that Ava just wanted to be left alone? “Yes. Only Christmas Day. You?”

“Off to Leipzig for a few days with the Tarazis this afternoon. I was just on my way out, actually. They don’t celebrate Christmas, but Zari likes the shopping, they both like the atmosphere, and they’re happy to celebrate with me. Plus the Leipzig Christmas markets are supposed to be some of the best, and it isn’t really safe to travel alone anymore.”

“You haven’t been before?” Ava asked politely, trying not to let Sara’s charming smile and infectious enthusiasm influence her.

“Nope. Well, I’ve been to Leipzig briefly, but not at Christmastime. I was in England last year, and, ah… I think ’33 was the last Christmas I spent in Germany,” Sara said, reflecting on the past few Christmases.

“Well, enjoy your trip,” Ava said, trying to get rid of Sara, who did not seem to be getting the message.

Sara leant against the doorframe as Ava sat down at her desk.

“What?” Ava asked.

“What are you doing on New Years Eve?”

“Nothing,” Ava replied, beginning to sort the new forms into piles.

“You are now,” Sara smirked. “Ava Sharpe, you are coming to the New Years Ball, this year hosted at none other than the friendly locals at Palais Strousberg. I shall pick you up at half-seven next Friday.”

“I - what? The British Embassy? Isn’t that only for Ambassadors and - ”

“And there’s always a huge imbalance in the ratio of men-to-women,” Sara finished Ava’s statement in a way Ava had not been intending.

“I - I don’t… I’m not that…”

“I know, but that’s not the point. You can dance, right?”

“Of course,” Ava answered.

“Well, that’s all you need to do. Smile and dance,” Sara said. “The dress code is white-tie. You’ll need an evening dress and gloves. Not that I’m suggesting you don’t already have one, but that’s what will be expected.”

“Why are you inviting me?” Ava asked.

“Why not? There aren’t many women in this line of work. We need to stick together. Well, I need to go. Zari will be waiting for me. Then we’ll both be waiting for Behrad and nearly miss the train. I’ll see you next week,” Sara smiled.

“Have a good trip.”

“Will do.”

“And Miss Lance?” Ava said, calling Sara back before she could stop herself.

Sara turned around.

“Ah, happy birthday for Saturday,” Ava said and smiled.

Sara beamed, and Ava had the feeling that something about that smile was a lot more genuine than anything she had seen so far. “Thank-you, Miss Sharpe,” Sara said. “I’m guessing Mr Heywood told you?”

Ava nodded, “Yes.”

Sara winked and gave a mock-solute. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

…

Friday, 31st December, 1937

Sara was impressed by the smart block of flats the driver pulled up in front of. “I won’t be long,” she said, climbing out of the Embassy car before the chauffeur could come around to assist her. She took the elevator to the second floor, and knocked on the door of number 204.

“One moment!” Ava called. A moment later the door opened, and Ava stood there in a glamorous, full-length maroon gown, low heels, glittering earrings, and her hair in a soft, low chignon bun. “I feel ridiculous,” Ava confessed.

“You look beautiful,” Sara breathed, having never seen Ava without her usual tight bun and work suit.

“You can come in,” Ava said, holding the door open, “I need to find a coat and some gloves. Black or white?”

“Probably black,” Sara answered, stepping inside. The flat was small, but fashionably furnished. “Have you been cooking?”

“I made a little bit of dinner earlier,” Ava said, closing the door behind Sara. “I didn’t know how much food there’d be and I’m not great company when I’m hungry. You look stunning, by the way,” Ava said, and blushed.

Sara smiled. “And you haven’t even seen the dress without the coat covering most of it,” she said. The bottom of her beaded blue dress poked out below her coat.

“I can see that tiara though,” Ava said, hardly able to take her eyes off the glittering tiara sitting across the crown of Sara’s head. “Will everyone be in one? I don’t have one and, I - ah…” Ava swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and not knowing why she ever accepted Sara’s invitation to attend the New Year’s Eve ball at the British Embassy. Surely she was losing her mind.

“Not everyone,” Sara said, “And technically it’s Gideon’s, not mine. As she’s said, she only has one head, so can only wear one at a time. Being a laurel-leaf design, I - well, my sister was called Laurel. And just as Gideon would remind me if I called it a tiara when it’s set like this, I shall inform you that as it is on the headband frame, and it is therefore just that. Do you have a brooch and a hair comb? I can improvise something for you.”

“I have an unfashionable brooch that belonged to my grandmother and more hairpins?” Ava suggested.

“That’ll do,” Sara smiled encouragingly. She felt strangely nervous alone in Ava’s company in the intimacy of her flat. On top of that she’d mentioned Laurel, which she hardly did to anyone outside of a very select few, and Ava was a relative stranger.

“One moment,” Ava said, disappearing into her bedroom to find the brooch and pins. It hadn’t been lost on her how Sara had referred to her sister in the past tense, or the suggestion that Gideon owned quite a large jewellery collection. Ava returned with the items, and Sara pulled out one of the dining chairs.

“If you’ll take a seat, Miss Sharpe,” she said and smirked.

Ava sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, and within moments Sara had secured the brooch to the top of Ava’s bun.

“Beautiful,” Sara said, admiring her handiwork. “I’m sure your grandmother would agree. All right, grab your coat and gloves, Miss Sharpe, or the chauffeur will be wondering what has become of us.”

A few minutes later they sat in back of the car on the way to the Palais Strousberg, each watching Berlin go by out of their respective windows.

“My sister died three years ago,” Sara said quietly. “Well, almost. 6th of April, 1935.”

“I’m sorry,” Ava said. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not,” Sara said, still looking out the window. “I’ve never told you.”

“May I ask how?” Ava asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Complications with childbirth,” Sara said, feeling strangely comfortable talking to Ava. She could feel all her masks slipping, the constant need to pretend disappearing. “I’d been expecting a telegram announcing the arrival of a niece or nephew, yet it came saying I wasn’t to be an aunt after all, and my sister was gone too,” Sara swallowed. “I don’t understand why we can make telephone calls across the Atlantic, and fly aeroplanes over continents, but women still die in childbirth? It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” Ava repeated, unable to think of anything better to say. “Were you close?”

Sara shrugged. “We were as children, and again in recent years, but had a bit of a rocky patch in the middle. All my fault. But once we sorted things out we wrote all the time, and even though I’ve been living in Europe for years, whenever we did see each other it was like no time had passed at all. I - she and Tommy came over for six months in early ’34 for their honeymoon and to visit me. Gideon and I were getting dressed to attend the wedding party of people Gideon knew in London. Laurel was with me while I was getting dressed. This was on the tiara frame,” Sara said, gesturing to the laurel headband. “She was wearing a cardigan and slippers, but was prancing around my room with the tiara on,” Sara smiled at the memory. She turned and looked at Ava. “When I wear it, in whatever setting, I feel like she’s still here. I can still see her, sashaying around my room, mocking Gideon’s accent, and teasing me for getting all dressed up like that,” Sara smiled wistfully, her eyes stinging with tears.

“You still miss her,” Ava said.

“Always will,” Sara confessed. “I hate that I can’t write to her. I hate it more that she can’t write to me. Sometimes, I - she’s my big sister. I guess sometimes I just need her. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and she wouldn’t want me getting sappy and sad. Especially not on the way to a New Year’s Eve ball at an Embassy,” Sara said, catching Ava’s eye.

Ava smiled. “I think she’d be proud of you.”

“I hope so,” Sara replied softly as the car slowed. “Nearly here,” she said, as they joined a queue of cars turning onto Willhelmstraße.

Fifteen minutes later, their coats were in the cloakroom, and Sara was leading the way into the Great Hall of the Palais Strousberg. It occurred to Ava that despite her years in the foreign service she had never been inside a foreign country’s embassy before, and as beautiful as the building was and the other women at the ball were, Sara in that beaded blue gown and diamond-set laurel wreath outshone them all.

“I’m afraid it’s not the fancy dress extravaganza the Royal Albert Hall, but it will do,” Gideon said, sliding into step with them. She was wearing a diamond kokoshnik tiara and black gown with silver stars. “You’ll find everyone’s already here. Oh dear, Colonel Hunter seems to have got himself stuck with François-Poncet.”

“Poncet’s all right,” Sara said.

“Yes, but the Colonel’s French is national embarrassment,” Gideon said, gliding across the Great Hall.

Sara took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Ava. “Trust Gideon to be wearing Chanel,” she said, sipping the champagne. “Hmm, it’s warm. That’ll annoy the French.”

“I can’t speak French at all,” Ava said quietly.

“Who would believe, Ava Sharpe is officially part of the Friday night drinks team,” Zari said, approaching Sara and Ava, wearing an emerald green dress with a very low back, and small art-deco style diamond and emerald tiara. “Of course, it’s not usually in the Embassy with a hundred or so foreign officials and their wives. Behrad’s down there somewhere with Nate and Amaya. Ooo, I haven’t seen those canapés yet, later,” Zari said, and glided across the room towards a waiter carrying a tray of canapés.

Ava gave Sara a quizzical look.

“Well, I guess it’s official then,” Sara said, “I’ll lurk around Pariser Platz next week, make sure you don’t get lost.”

“You’re sure?” Ava asked, “You really want me to join your Friday night drinks group?”

“Why not? It’s a bit of fun. It’s always a bit of an revolving door of people, but that’s the nature of our jobs.”

“I’d recommend you two find partners and start dancing,” Gideon said, appearing suddenly between them. “You can dance, can’t you, Miss Sharpe?”

“Ah, yes. Well enough.”

“Good,” Gideon said. “Though the women might outnumber the men in our little circle, the men outnumber the women at this party. If anyone needs me, I’ll be dancing with the Ambassador,” Gideon said.

“Is she - ?”

“Henderson’s not married, neither is Gideon, she’s a good dancer and they get along well enough,” Sara said. “And annoyingly she’s not wrong about us needing to find partners. I’d dance with you, but even though we’re technically on British soil, there are some here who may be in the pay or pocket of local authorities, and I’d rather not take the risk.”

Ava blushed, and had no idea how to respond to Sara’s comment which she made sound so casual when she was right in suggesting that them dancing together could get them arrested. But Sara Lance wanted to dance with her?

“Come on,” Sara continued, taking Ava by the arm and pulling her out of her reverie. “We’ll find Nate and Amaya, and Nate can find us a few objectively handsome attachés who hopefully don’t have two left feet.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the change of rating, due to themes and implied situations. I haven't changed the warnings as yet. 
> 
> Thank-you very much to those leaving kudos and comments, it means a lot :D

Monday, 9th May, 1938

Weeks rolled into months, and the weather improved as the days grew longer. Easter came and went, and trees blossomed and flowers bloomed as May came along. Despite Friday night drinks with their friends and irregular meetings in the US Embassy, Ava still wished she could see more of the mysterious Sara Lance. Sara barely mentioned her past, and didn’t talk about her sister again after New Year’s Eve. There was so much Ava wished to ask her, but she convinced herself she was content to be amongst the acquaintances of the beautiful woman. Ava noticed that her heart seemed to skip a beat each time they met, especially if it was unexpected in the Embassy.

The sun was trying to force it’s way out as Ava trudged up the stairs, carrying a pile of visa applications to be sorted, stamped and processed. She always knew a position like this in a major embassy like Berlin would be busy, but Ava was becoming suspicious of the number of applications. People weren’t immigrating in normal numbers; this was an exodus. Ava considered bringing this up with Sara, wondering if her friend would be willing or able to share the numbers from the British Embassy, or if she knew what was happening at other embassies and consulates around Germany. Ava wished she had more information, which gave her an idea. She dumped the pile of applications on her desk and continued down the hall.

“Mr Green,” she said, letting herself into the office of the young secretary.

“Oh, umm, Miss Sharpe. Good morning, ma’am, I was just - ”

“I don’t care, Gary,” Ava said, giving what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “I need you to look something up for me. Can you get the number of visa applications from Munich, Frankfurt and Hamburg?”

“Just for April?” Agent Green asked. “Or the last twelve months? Or going back even further?”

“The last twelve months would be perfect,” Ava replied. She knew she was exploiting Gary’s loyalty, she was one of the few people who was kind to him even if he was annoying, but in return he didn’t question her requests, often going over and above for her, even though he technically and frustratingly outranked her. “Thank-you, Mr Green. I’d be lost without you.”

“Oh, no, thank-you, Miss Sharpe. Did I tell you that I visited Volkspark Jungfernheide last weekend? Excellent recommendation, thank-you for that. I still have a couple more places to visit on that list you gave me.”

“That’s great, Gary,” Ava said, cutting him off after catching sight of her favourite familiar figure down the end of the hallway. “I - I’ll make you another list, especially now that we’re getting into finer weather. I’ll talk to you later,” she said, closing the door and hurrying down the hallway. “Miss Lance. Sara!” Ava called.

Sara stopped and turned. “Miss Sharpe,” Sara said politely, but as Ava got closer, she noticed something was wrong. Sara was pale and her eyes looked glassy.

“I - are you all right?” Ava asked.

Sara swallowed. She been out all night, her well-tailored coat covering her gown, but her high heels, diamond earrings and glittering dress rings gave away the game. “I’m sorry Ava, I have to go,” she said, unable to look Ava in the eye.

“Would you be able to take a walk in the Tiergarten at lunchtime one day this week? The weather’s supposed to be all right.” Ava said.

Sara shook her head. “I mean - really go. Leave Berlin.”

Ava felt her stomach drop. She’d never see Sara look so sad or so defeated. Without thinking, she took Sara by the hand and led her down the corridor into her office. Ava’s office was hardly big enough to fit her desk and filing cabinet, but it had heating and lighting and a window that actually opened and she could shut the door if she wished. Ava gently closed the door as Sara leant against her desk, her shoulders slumped.

“What happened?” Ava asked, wishing she could give Sara a hug.

“You know I can’t answer that,” Sara said, blinking back tears.

“Are you hurt?”

Sara shook her head.

Ava exhaled in relief, surprise to find Sara’s hands in hers.

Sara finally met her eyes and gave a sad smile. “The situation got out of hand. I nearly got into trouble, but I didn’t. I’m all right, I promise. I just - I need to lie low for a bit. I’m catching the evening sleeper to Paris tonight. I’m going back to my apartment now, get cleaned up and packed up. I’m so sorry, Ava. I really am.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Ava said, still holding Sara’s hands.

Sara shrugged. “Should have known better. I’ve been in the game for long enough, but the rules are changing quicker than I can keep up with. I - It’s been a very long time since I felt the situation was out of my control.”

Ava let go of Sara’s hand and pulled her in for a hug, decorum be damned. Sara wrapped her arms around Ava, holding her tightly. “I’m sorry you ended up in that position, whatever it was.”

“Part of the job,” Sara said, her voice slightly muffled as she clung to Ava for longer than would be acceptable were they not in the privacy of Ava’s office.

“I’m sorry,” Ava said, rubbing Sara’s back, still not entirely sure what Sara’s job was, and not sure she wanted to let her mind wander into the sort of situation Sara might have found herself in.

Sara reluctantly let go of Ava.

“How long will you be gone?” Ava asked, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to Sara. “It’s clean.”

Sara nodded as she took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “I don’t know. A couple of months at least.”

“But to plan on coming back?”

Sara looked at Ava. “I think so. Still work to do here. Sorry, I got mascara on your handkerchief.”

“Keep it,” Ava smiled, “I have more.”

“Would it be all right if I write?” Sara asked, pocketing the handkerchief. “I can send the letters here, or your home address, I don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Ava said, feeling her heart flutter at the suggestion. “My home address is fine.”

Sara smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Here,” she said, grabbing a notepad and pen off Ava’s desk and scribbling down an address. “That’s the address of my friend Mr Palmer in Paris. I’ll be in the city for at least a fortnight, not sure if I’ll stay with Ray or at the Bristol, but that address for mail is better. I should probably send him a telegram to let him know to expect my imminent arrival. Not that he’ll mind, but it’ll be nice to have someone meet me at the station.”

Ava nodded, looking at Sara’s messy handwriting on the notepad. “If it isn’t too much to ask, could you telegram me when you get there? So that I know you’re safe?”

“Why Miss Sharpe,” Sara smiled, “I didn’t know you cared.”

Ava blushed.

“Of course I can,” Sara said and sighed. “I best be off.”

“I’ll walk you down,” Ava said, the words coming out before she could stop herself.

“Thank-you,” Sara said as Ava squeezed past her to open the door. They talked as they walked down to the back entrance, Sara telling Ava about Ray Palmer in Paris, and the sorts of people she hoped to, and not to, be sharing a compartment with on the train.

“I’ll be in touch as soon as I get there, I promise,” Sara said, when they reached the foyer.

“Take care,” Ava said.

“You too,” Sara replied, surprising Ava with another hug, but Ava was happy to oblige. Sara sighed and let go of Ava. “You look after her for me, won’t you Sergeant Rory,” Sara said to the Sergeant, who was lurking in the small back foyer, in case any civilians should try their luck getting in the back way.

“You listen to the lady and take care,” Sergeant Rory grunted.

Sara gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Give my regards to Alice and the girls.”

Sergeant Rory grunted.

Sara looked back to Ava and with a mock salute and cocky smile, left the embassy.

…

Tuesday, 10th May, 1938

Moments after stepping off the train at Gare du Nord, Sara spotted a familiar tall, skinny figure in a bowler hat and grey suit. Ray Palmer caught her eye and waved enthusiastically as Sara made her way towards the concourse.

“Captain Lance,” Ray grinned as she wrapped Sara into a hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Ray,” Sara said, awkwardly returning the gesture with her suitcase in one hand and hat box under the other arm. She leant into his warm embrace, relief rippling through her body. There were no Swastikas, no military presence, and only a few bored looking policemen wandering around as expected.

“Have you had breakfast?” Ray asked, letting go of the hug and taking Sara’s suitcase.

“No,” Sara replied. “Or dinner. I looked at the food in the dining car and decided I’d rather be hungry.”

Ray chuckled. “I’ve parked out the front. We’ll grab some pastries on the way to my place.”

“I’m happy to stay at the Bristol. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“The guest room is ready and waiting. My landlady has already made it up, and she’d be quite disappointed if you didn’t use it. Beside, Gideon sent me a telegram.”

Sara nodded, too tired to argue. “Can we stop by a post office too? I need to send a telegram to Gideon and Miss Sharpe to let them know I’m here.”

“I want to hear all about this mysterious Miss Sharpe,” Ray said, as they stepped out onto the street.

“Don’t worry, you will,” Sara gave him a nudge and smiled.

Half an hour later they were in Ray’s second-floor apartment with a box of pastries from one of Ray’s favourite patisseries, the telegrams were sent, and Sara could enjoy sunlight streaming in the large windows.

“I’ll give you a minute to freshen up, and find some plates and put on the kettle,” Ray said. He was an engineer by trade, and had ended up connected to the US Military developing motors for planes, tanks and other vehicles, but the military establishment had found that his calm demeanour and diplomatic skills rivalled his engineering capabilities. His enthusiasm saw him promoted, and he had liaised with BMW and Mercedes-Benz while stationed in Germany, and now liaised with Peugeot and Renault in France, as well as doing more general diplomatic work.

“Thanks Ray,” Sara said, stepping into the guest room. It was simply decorated with a single brass bed with fresh white bedding, a white-washed wardrobe, small writing desk, and bedside table with a vase of flowers. Sara removed her hat, coat and shoes, washed her face and hands, unpacked a couple of things, then joined Ray in the kitchen.

“No one makes croissants like the French,” Sara said, sitting down at the little table and picking up a croissant. Pastry flakes fell onto her plate as she bit into it, enjoying the buttery, flakey pastry.

“Tea?”

“Please. One sugar, no milk.”

“Coming right up,” Ray said, placing the cup in front of Sara. He sat down opposite her and took a croissant for himself. “Are you feeling well? You look rather pale, if I may say so.”

“Say what you want, Ray,” Sara said and sighed. “I - I’m tired.”

“Didn’t sleep much on the train?”

“Yes, I mean, no, but… not just that sort of tired,” Sara confessed, and nibbled at her croissant. “I am so tired, Ray. I don’t know why it’s all so exhausting now. Everything, the whole time I - I have to pretend, the whole time. I’m used to being careful, but this is different and it’s become exhausting. You never know who’s listening, who they really work for, if you can really trust them. I hate being this cynical. I’m used to acting as part of the job, but now I feel like I’m doing it the whole time and I just - I am so tired,” Sara sighed, tears burning her eyes. She took a sip of tea.

“Does Gideon know?” Ray asked.

Sara nodded.

“Is that why you left?”

“You know I can’t give specifics,” Sara said. “There’s more to it than just being tired, but…”

“I understand,” Ray said. “Is it about situations that Oliver never would have been asked to place himself in?”

Sara sighed and finished the croissant, then reached for a madeleine. She was hungrier than she realised. “Maybe if they needed information out of Röhm, but he’s been dead for years, and Oliver is firmly back in the US,” she said, trying to make light of Ray’s comment.

Ray smiled sadly, knowing Sara was deflecting. “They’d never ask Oliver to do that. Or me. Or - ”

“Ray, please,” Sara said. “I know that. And it doesn’t make it right, but… I don’t know. I don’t - usually it’s just… I always carry a knife when I’m working, sometimes two. But the other night wasn’t like that. I can handle that. This was - dammit, Ray. I can’t tell you! You know that!”

“Why doesn’t Gideon protect you?”

“She does!” Sara snapped and sighed. “Sorry. Without Gideon it could be so much worse. This used to be fun, Ray. But since I went back to Berlin at the end of last year… now it just feels dangerous. We used to mess things up all the time, but somehow knew it would all work out. If we screw up now,” Sara shook her head, trying to force back tears, “Now they’d kill us, and if that’s all they did, we’d be lucky.”

Ray swallowed and thought back to his time in Berlin, especially when Sara had first come over at the end of ’32. She’d been unpolished and her diplomatic tact was deplorable, but she’d learnt quickly and soon because the best of them. “You wouldn’t consider going back to the States?” he asked.

Sara sighed, sinking back into her chair. “There’s nothing left for me there, I don’t know what I’d do there, and I’m not entirely sure they’d want me back full-time anyway,” she said.

“More tea?” Ray asked kindly.

Sara nodded.

“Were you able to speak to Gideon about why you left?” Ray asked, standing up and refilling their cups.

“I think I gave her the fright of her life,” Sara chuckled weakly. “It’s usually only the Gestapo who make house calls at half-four in the morning in Berlin. However it’s far from the first time we’ve debriefed when one of us has been in our nightie, and I doubt it’ll be the last. We were at the Embassy just after six, then I went around to Pariser Platz and saw Miss Sharpe, though that wasn’t intentional.”

“Who is this Miss Sharpe? Even Nate’s written about her.”

Sara smiled. “She works in passports and visas at the US Embassy. She - I like her, Ray. A lot. At first I thought she was just another government stiff, but… she’s not. She’s one of the good ones. If anything, I’m worried about getting her mixed up in our world.”

“Do you think she understands what you do?”

“Half the time I don’t understand what I do,” Sara chuckled, finishing the madeleine. “She doesn’t know anything specifically, but she’s smart, and I’m sure she knows that I’m not just some paper-pusher.”

“You said you… like her? As in…?” Ray tried to prompt Sara.

“Yes, I think so,” Sara said. “And that’s why I don’t want her getting hurt.”

“Does she… is she like you?”

“I don’t know if there’s many people quite like me, Ray,” Sara smirked, “But she’s not the conventional marrying type, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said.

Ray blushed. “Oh, I - of course. I understand.”

“Sadly, Berlin isn’t what it used to be. When I first came over here, I could have taken her dancing every night of the week and no one would have batted an eyelid. Now, I’m afraid to ask her to lunch incase…” Sara sighed. “I don’t know. Incase we’re arrested? Sometimes we go for a walk in the Tiergarten, but Berlin is not what it used to be.”

“Why don’t you ask Gideon for a transfer?” Ray asked. He’d been transferred to Paris in 1935 after the Nazi Party had brought in the “Defense Law” and other increasingly anti-Semitic measures, and foreign governments began to realise it was no longer safe for their Jewish employees in stay in Germany.

“I can’t,” Sara said, leaning back in her chair and staring at the roof. “Or I could have, but now… Gideon suggested it the other day, but now there’s…”

“Miss Sharpe?”

Sara nodded. “I don’t want to leave her. Which is stupid, because in a way I hardly know her, but… I want to go back, Ray, in a few months. I’ll spend a couple of weeks here with you, if that’s all right, then head over to London for the summer. Gideon’s coming over in June for a month, she’s got a couple of weddings and was complaining about having missed Royal Ascot for most of the decade. I’ll do the season and see how it goes. I have Miss Sharpe’s address. I should write to her now, actually,” Sara said and yawned.

“I know you want to rest, but would you be happy to come to dinner with Nora and I?” Ray asked.

“Of course,” Sara said, taking the last madeleine.

“I want to ask her to marry me,” Ray said nervously and blushed.

“What, tonight?”

“No, no,” Ray said quickly, “During the summer. I - I want to ask Nate what he thinks. If I should.”

“Did Nate meet her when he was here in February?”

“Yes,” Ray grinned. “They got along like a house on fire.”

Sara smiled. “You don’t need our permission, Ray.”

“You know who her father is,” Ray said.

“All too well,” Sara sighed. Nora’s father was a notorious people, arms, and drug trafficker, though he had such a vast web of associates and operated over so many country borders that it had become almost impossible to pin anything on him specifically. For most of the ’30’s he’d been laying low, enjoying life in his western French chateaux, smug in the knowledge that the authorities couldn’t or wouldn’t touch him for fear of retribution.

“That’s why,” Ray said.

“I’m looking forward to meeting her, though,” Sara said, standing up, “Really. If she’s half as good as you’ve said in your letters, then I’m sure she’s lovely.”

Ray beamed and stood up. “I better go to the office. I’ll let Nora know you’re joining us for dinner. I’ll be back around six. The hot water works, there’s not a lot of food, but there is some fresh baguette I bought earlier this morning, some butter and some cheese.”

“You’re sounding like a true Parisian now, Ray,” Sara teased as Ray collected up the cups and plates. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go and run that bath right now. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Whatever happened, I’m very glad you’re here and you’re safe, Captain,” Ray said, pulling Sara into another hug.

“Me too, Ray,” Sara said, able to hug him properly this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “Defense Law” in 1935 banned Jews from serving in the German armed forces, and introduced compulsory military service for “Aryans”. 
> 
> Ernst Röhm was a gay Nazi official, and buddies with Hitler. He was executed during a party purge in 1934.
> 
> Though the exact dates that the events in the story happen on don't matter quite so much at the moment apart from making time-jumps clear, but the dates will be important later on as they move closer to war.


	5. Chapter 5

Friday, 13th May, 1938

Ava hated being the last one to Friday night drinks as she was always the first to leave, but she also hated leaving a pile of paperwork on her desk over the weekend. She managed a compromise with herself, finishing most of the paperwork, and still leaving with enough time that would hopefully mean she wasn’t the last to arrive. Even though she was already missing Sara, Ava surprised herself by looking forward to seeing the others regardless. She had received a telegram on Tuesday morning saying Sara had arrived safely in Paris, and had received a brief letter that morning. Ava had tried formulating a response in her head, but wasn’t sure where to start. Sara’s letter was so natural, and everything Ava thought of felt formal and stiff.

She entered the bar and spotted Gideon, Nate and Amaya at their usual table.

“Good evening, everyone,” Ava said, as Gideon pulled out the stool beside her for Ava to sit on. Ava removed her coat and placed it over the back of the stool.

“One beer, coming right up,” Nate said, waving to the barman.

“Amaya, Gideon.”

“Hello, Ava.”

“Good evening, Miss Sharpe.”

“Sorry, I’ve been swamped with paperwork, though I see I’ve managed to make it before the Tarazis,” Ava said, settling in. It felt strange not having Sara in her usual seat by her side.

“They’re not coming,” Gideon said.

“What, they got an better offer somewhere else?” Nate chuckled.

“Something like that,” Gideon said, sipping her beer.

“Has something happened?” Amaya asked.

“Wait, Gideon, what’s going on?” Nate asked, his smile gone, as a waiter placed a beer in front of Ava.

Gideon pursed her lips before continuing. “If my calculations are correct, Mr and Miss Tarazi will currently be enjoying a glass on wine in a chic bistro with Mr Palmer, Miss Darhk and Captain Lance.”

“What?”

“Who?”

“With Sara?” Ava asked, putting the pieces together. “They’re in Paris?”

“They left on Wednesday,” Gideon said, matter-of-fact.

“Gideon, you need to fill us in properly,” Nate said. “This bits-and-pieces nonsense isn’t fair.”

“Miss Tarazi was with Captain Lance on Sunday evening,” Gideon said, keeping her voice low, despite being sure that other than those at their table, no one in the bar understood English. “Though she left the scene before Captain Lance’s later trials and tribulations, the fact that they were together that night could have caused issues. And despite there being very few Muslims in Berlin, but there’s nothing to say they won’t be next on the list of those persecuted.”

Ava thought of the multitudes of visa applications that crossed her desk every week, the majority belonging to Berlin’s Jewish population. Zari and Behrad generally travelled on British passports, but she understood Gideon’s sentiment.

“Why didn’t they say goodbye?” Nate asked, “Why not let us know they were in Paris? Have you got confirmation that they’re safe?” he asked Gideon.

“It was at my recommendation that they left,” Gideon replied, “And they don’t plan to stay in Paris long, just for a couple of days before continuing on to London. You know they have a townhouse in Mayfair, plus the property in Cambridgeshire. I’ve given them the contact details for Charlie in London and Mr Constantine in Liverpool, plus the know how to get hold of me. They are quite safe.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the left without saying goodbye,” Nate said, feeling hurt. Amaya rested her hand on his thigh.

“I’m sorry, Mr Heywood. I really am. I thought it was best this way.”

“I understand Sara just leaving like that,” Nate grumbled, “But not Behrad and Zari.”

Gideon sipped at her beer. Ava looked around the table. Half of her friends were gone. Somehow she knew that Zari and Behrad would not be coming back, but she didn’t know how to ask Gideon about Sara, and realised how lucky she was that she’d caught Sara in the Embassy, as otherwise Sara too would have left without saying goodbye, and without leaving a forwarding address.

Nate knocked back the rest of his beer and signalled the barman for another. “You’re lucky I love you, Gideon, because sometimes I really, really don’t like you,” he said, squeezing Amaya’s hand.

“Lucky indeed,” Gideon replied.

…

Wednesday, 25th May, 1938

Night had not quite fallen as the train pulled into Waterloo Station. The air in the station was thick with smoke and steam, but London had a certain smell to it, and despite being weary from travelling, Sara was happy to be back. As she walked down the platform, she saw two familiar figures waiting for her.

“I wasn’t expecting a whole welcoming party,” Sara said, a grin breaking out across her face.

“Tell you what, when Gideon gets here in a couple of weeks, she can catch the bloody Tube,” Charlie said, wrapping her arms around Sara’s neck, while Zari wrapped her arms around both of them.

“I missed you too, Charlie,” Sara grinned. “Good to see you, Zari. You obviously met Charlie?”

“I was on her bloody welcoming committee too, wasn’t I?” Charlie said, giving Zari a nudge.

“I should have stayed with you in Paris,” Zari said, “Charlie’s positively awful and it’s been cold the whole time,” she teased and winked at Charlie.

“Well, there’s the train. Jump on, you’ll be in Dover in a few hours and can get back across the Channel in the morning,” Charlie teased. “You’re looking better than when I last saw ya, Captain,” she said, linking arms with Zari. “Though you do look in need of a bath and a nap.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Sara said, though the banter between her two friends was not lost on her. Charlie and Zari had known each other for little over a week, but were acting as though they’d known each other their whole lives. Sara tried to hide a smirk.

“I’ve seen you looking like a corpse, Cap, I’m not afraid to tell you how you’re looking.”

“When did Sara ever look like a corpse?” Zari asked.

“Tell you later,” Charlie said, “If it’s alright with you?” she asked, looking to Sara.

“I was sick the other year,” Sara said, setting the scene for the version of the story Zari was allowed to know. “Charlie helped nursed me back to health. She can tell you all the embarrassing stories like the time I threw up all over her,” she smiled and gave Charlie a nudge.

“ _Times_ you threw up on me. It was more than once. Didn’t matter if I tried to get you to be sick in a bowl or off the side of the bed, you always got me hands or shoes. Bloody disgusting.”

“I owe you eternal favours,” Sara said, and gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek.

“Eh, I was doing it for Gideon, not you, Cap.”

“This sounds really gross, so I’m glad we’re discussing it before dinner,” Zari said.

“Where’s Behrad?” Sara asked. Behrad was never one to miss a get-together.

“He’s gone up to Cambridgeshire to check on the house there, and he wanted to go and see some of his buddies still at the university. He’ll come back for the Epson Derby.”

“We really are doing the whole season, aren’t we?” Sara asked.

“First we’re going to a pub and getting dinner,” Charlie said as they stepped out onto the street. “Your train was delayed and Zari’s too polite to eat without you. I happily would have eaten hours ago.”

“Pub, definitely,” Sara said. “But can we swing by Gideon’s place first, so I can drop off my things?” Gideon’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square was only a couple of blocks from where the Tarazis had their London house. There were six bedrooms, and Sara had long since claimed one as her own.

“Yeah, yeah. Only then we’ll be near all the expensive posh pubs.”

“I’ll pay. I don’t mind,” Zari said as they climbed into a cab.

“That’s the best part of rolling with you lot,” Charlie said and grinned at Zari, who pulled the door shut, “Free dinners for life.”

…

Monday, 13th June, 1938

“Ava! Ava!” Nate said, almost skipping down the corridor towards her. “On the 2nd, Amaya and I are going up to Rügen for a week. We just got confirmation this morning of the booking. It’s a four-bedroom house for one married couple. Please, please come with us.”

Ava was a little taken a-back. Gideon had gone back to London a couple of weeks ago and would be away for a few weeks yet, leaving just Ava, Nate and Amaya in their little group.

“Please?” Nate said again. “The island is supposed to be very pretty. There’s a lighthouse, a castle, some beaches, some cliffs, some paddocks, a couple of towns. I don’t know, the travel brochure wasn’t very descriptive, but Amaya and I need a break from Berlin. Bring some books, and come with us. It’ll be fun.”

“That does sound tempting,” Ava said. Berlin was hectic, and getting away from the office and the city in general would be good. Besides, it would give her something interesting to write to Sara about. They had fallen into an easy pattern of exchanging increasingly affectionate letters; Ava wrote a reply as soon as she received a letter from Sara, and sometimes had other pages ready to go if something in particular of note had happened.

“If there’s anything issues with travelling, we can easily say we’re cousins,” Nate said. “Come on, Ava. I told Amaya you’d say yes.”

“Yes, all right, Nate!” Ava laughed. “Fine, I’ll come with you.”

“Yes!” Nate said, and pulled Ava in for a hug. “We’re going to have such a great time.”

Ava smiled as Nate let go. Despite her years spend in Germany, she hadn’t explored much outside of Munich and Berlin where she’d been posted, and travelling with the Heywoods provided extra security.

“You can tell Amaya I caved in. Let me know how much I owe you.”

“Train fares only,” Nate said. “We’ve got the house covered.”

“Nate…”

“Our treat,” Nate grinned. “I’ll write to Amaya now. Tell her to meet us for lunch. I’ll tell Gary he’s going to have to manage the visa desk while we’re away. Woo, summer break!”

Ava laughed as Nate waved and half ran down the corridor. She entered her office and found a piece of paper to write on. The next letter from Sara was unlikely to arrive until tomorrow, but Ava wanted to let her know what was happening now. Even though Sara was hundreds of miles away, Ava wished she could come with them. Maybe next summer.

…

Thursday, 14th July, 1938

Ava had been surprised to find a note of her desk inviting her to lunch with Gideon. Gideon had returned to Berlin while Ava had been enjoying her week in Rügen with the Heywoods, and Ava wondered what Gideon could want. If it was just gossip about Sara and the others in London, surely it could wait until Friday night drinks? Nate and Amaya would want to hear about their friends too.

At 1 o’clock Ava met Gideon, wearing a very smart dress and new summer hat, out the front of the US Embassy.

“Miss Sharpe,” Gideon said and gave a nod.

“Gideon. You look well,” Ava said.

“Travelling agrees with me,” Gideon smiled. “To lunch, Miss Sharpe.”

Gideon glossed over most of her time away, choosing to speak detail about her successes at Royal Ascot, despite Ava knowing little about horse racing, as she led the way through the neat streets that surrounded the embassies, arriving at her favourite restaurant. The waiter greeter her like an old friend, and quickly showed them to a table.

“So, you enjoyed your time in London, then?” Ava asked.

“Always,” Gideon smiled. “It doesn’t matter how long I spend away from there, it’s always home, and it always feels just like home whenever I go back. Have you been to London, Miss Sharpe?”

“No, I am embarrassingly badly travelled,” Ava confessed. Though Gideon’s features didn’t betray her, Ava got the feeling that Gideon knew exactly where in the world Ava had and had not been to.

“Lucky you went to Rügen, then,” Gideon said as the waiter came to take their orders.

“Yes, we had a wonderful time. Gideon, I - have I done something wrong? I - I mean, why are we having lunch?” Ava asked.

“Because it’s lunchtime, Miss Sharpe.”

Ava raised her eyebrows.

Gideon chuckled. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong. Captain Lance often spoke about you. I think she misses you.”

“We write all the time,” Ava said, feeling too self-conscious to admit how much she was missing Sara too.

“It’s not the same,” Gideon said.

“I know,” Ava said, wondering if Gideon was checking up on her for Sara. “Do you know when she’ll come back?”

Gideon shrugged. “It’s not for me to say. But I think she’s only got one more tour to Berlin, if you will.”

The waiter placed their drinks in front of them. “I don’t understand,” Ava said, sipping her drink.

“I think you do, Miss Sharpe. You’re clever. You’re allowed to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Ava said too quickly. She knew about people disappearing in the night, about the immigration numbers, and about campaigns targeting those considered ‘anti-social’ which she fell into.

“I am,” Gideon confessed, “There’s no shame in it.”

“Why didn’t you stay in London then?” Ava asked, realising her question sounded very rude as it came out.

“I will go back. But not quite yet. I’m still needed here.”

“So am I.”

“Yes. So is Captain Lance, truth be told,” Gideon said, sipping her beer.

“It would be easier if we were men,” Ava mumbled. “Then she really would be a Captain, and I’d be running the department, not just filing paperwork.”

“I’m glad I’m not,” Gideon said as the waiter delivered their lunch. “A gentleman, that is. If so, I very likely would have met a shower of machine-gun fire shortly after my 18th birthday. Of course, I would have looked dashing in an officer’s uniform for a few days, but I’d still be dead, just like my brothers.”

“I - I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your job to know, Miss Sharpe,” Gideon said. “But I appreciate the sentiment. I’d been working in the Foreign Office for about six months when we got the telegram saying that Alexander was missing in action. I decided that wasn’t good enough, so I fabricated a few letters, forged a couple of signatures, and within a month we had confirmation that he was dead, and knew where he was buried.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ava breathed.

Gideon gave a small shrug and continued with her meal. “I’ve visited the grave a few times. It’s a bit out of the way though, off the main train line, so I’m sure he understands why I visit Henry and Thomas more often. Anyhow, my actions got me fired from the Foreign Office and promptly re-hired by Section 7. I worked there for a year, got moved to Section 8 for the rest of the Great War and into the ‘20s, then in ’22 was offered a position in Section 6, where I’ve been ever since.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ava said, trying to get some cabbage to stay on her fork.

“I’m recruiting you, Miss Sharpe.”

“I - what? Can you do that? I - but I’m American! Wouldn’t it be treason?” Ava hissed under her breath, putting her fork down and looking around to see if anyone in the restaurant was paying attention.

“Yes, I can do that. I do what I want. It doesn’t matter that you’re technically from across the pond and have a maroon passport while mine is blue. My lot certainly don’t care, and what yours don’t know doesn’t seem to bother them.”

“But it’s treason,” Ava said.

“I’m not asking you to betray your country, Miss Sharpe” Gideon asked, scraping up the last of her meal. “I’m asking you to help me and mine.”

“Sematics,” Ava grumbled.

“Perhaps,” Gideon said, “But I think you’ll find my argument wins out. Someone will be in touch.”

“What - who? How will I know? What - I can’t… what do you expect me to do?”

“Your job, Miss Sharpe,” Gideon smiled politely. “I’d never ask you to do any more than that.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Well, you do, so that’s a non-issue.”

“You are very frustrating,” Ava grumbled, poking at her lunch.

“I’ve been called worse,” Gideon said, taking a sip of beer.

Ava looked up and caught Gideon’s eye. “Nate works for you too, doesn’t he?”

“From time to time Mr Heywood assists me in my endeavours,” Gideon replied.

“And the Tarazis? Sara’s friend Ray in Paris? Charlie, whoever she is?”

Gideon smiled and knocked back the last of her beer. “I might have been the one to bring them all together, but your Miss Lance is the one they call Captain,” she smirked, leaving Ava utterly perplexed as she turned the topic back to horse racing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that Season 5 finale was certainly something!
> 
> Please note that this chapter includes Kristallnacht. Nazi official Ernst vom Rath was assassinated by a Polish Jew is Paris, and this was used as the pretext for the Kristallnacht riots, which were carried out across Germany by the SA paramilitary and civilians, targeting Jewish businesses and synagogs. It is often regarded at the start of the holocaust.

Tuesday, 4th October, 1938

“Knock, knock, anyone home?”

Ava’s heart jumped at the unexpected voice. “Sa - Miss Lance!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her desk as Sara opened the door. She’d almost forgotten quite how blue Sara’s eyes were. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I came straight here,” Sara grinned, wearing her usual well-cut coat, but a new navy blue hat, her blonde curls poking out beneath it.

“Rubbish. You visited Gideon first,” Ava said, but couldn’t help smiling.

Sara laughed. “You got me. I had to see Gideon for business reason, but you’re my first friendly call. I got back to Berlin yesterday evening. I’ve been trying to deliver ‘peace for our time’, but we’ll see how that goes.”

“You’ve been in Munich?” Ava asked, closing the door behind Sara.

Sara nodded. “I got there last Wednesday. I would have been back here late last week, but since I was already on the move, it was just as easy to send me over there as it was for me to come back here.”

‘What was it like?” Ava asked.

Sara sighed and leant against Ava’s desk. “To be honest, I really don’t know. The place was crawling with politicians and military of all levels. Hitler gets the Sudetenland, which is what he wanted. Chamberlain gets more time to prepare for war, which is what he wanted. Daladier gets to continue to pretend there won’t be a war, which is what he wants, and Mussolini got to hang out with the big boys and feel important for a few days, which is what he wanted. Of course, the Czechs got completely screwed over, and it’s the world’s worst kept secret over in Palais Strousberg that Hitler hates ‘umbrella man’ Chamberlain.”

“What happens now?” Ava asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara said. “I don’t want us to go to war, Ava. My father fought in the Great War, but I don’t think this will be the same. It can’t be. The players are too different, technology’s changed, people have changed. I - I’m very happy to see you though, Miss Sharpe,” Sara smiled, purposefully changing the topic.

“You are certainly a sight for sore eyes, Miss Lance,” Ava said, pulling Sara into a hug. Sara held her tightly, breathing in her scent.

“What are you doing in March?” Sara asked, reluctantly letting go.

“Next year? Working here, why?”

“Could you take a week off? Come to Paris with me?” Sara asked, her eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

“Paris?” Ava asked as Sara took her hand.

“Ray’s getting married. Everyone will be there. Gideon, the Heywoods, the Tarazis. I can’t have you all on your lonesome in Berlin,” Sara pouted.

Ava laughed. “You’re serious?”

“Very! Come with me to Paris. I’m allowed to bring a friend. You’ll love Ray and Nora, I promise.”

“I…”

“Please?” Sara begged.

“All right. I’ll come to Paris with you for the wedding of some people I don’t know!” Ava laughed.

“It will be brilliant.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Ava said. Thinking about how much fun she had with the Heywoods at Rügen, Ava decided that Paris with Sara and the rest of their friends couldn’t be all bad.

“I should go. I have several much less interesting people to let know I’m back in town. And Nate of course. I would pop in and see him,” Sara said. “Anyway, walk around the Tiergarten at lunch tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Ava smiled, warmth rising inside her.

“See you, Ava,” Sara said, opening the door.

…

Wednesday, 9th November

“Captain Lance, get your things,” Gideon said, resting her hand on Sara’s shoulder.

“Where are we going?” Sara asked, looking up from her desk. Gideon was in her hat and coat, bag slung over her shoulder.

“Home. Right now. I just saw Colonel Hunter. They’re sending everyone home, starting with the women. Expect streets to be closed off later on. It’s not safe, and it’s only going to get worse as the night goes on.”

“What’s going on?” Sara asked, closing her notebook and standing to take her coat off the back of her chair.

“There’s going to be retaliation for the assassination of vom Rath in Paris,” Gideon replied, keeping her voice down, despite the fact that everyone would be finding out soon enough. “At least that’s what they’re using as a cover. The Stormtroopers and the rioters are going after the Jews, Captain. They’re not going to be stopped.”

Sara felt her stomach tighten and the colour drain from her face. “It’ll be a massacre.”

“I really hope not,” Gideon said. “Do you want to come with me?”

Sara shook her head, fiddling with her coat buttons. “I can’t.”

“Captain - ”

“What about Miss Sharpe? Do our friends around the corner know?”

“I don’t know what the current plans of the administration at Pariser Platz are,” Gideon replied.

“I have to make sure she’s safe,” Sara said, pulling on her hat and grabbing her bag.

“Will you be all right, Captain?” Gideon asked. “Whatever happens, you can’t go into the streets. I don’t know what they’re going to do exactly, but - ”

“I am not going out there, Gideon. I promise. I need to make sure Ava is safe,” Sara swallowed. “She deserves to know.”

“I understand,” Gideon replied. “If it’s still bad tomorrow, stay at home. I’ll send word.”

“Can’t we stay here?” Sara asked.

“Some of the men might,” Gideon said, as they made their way towards the entrance, shoes clicking on the tiles. “I doubt they’ll come for the embassies. Depending on how much it escalates, there’s going to be enough push-back from the international press. You can’t target your own people like this, and targeting any of the embassies would only make things so much worse.”

“So we’re safer here?”

“Possibly, but Captain, please go home. Lock the door, and stay there. Please.”

“First I’m going for Ava,” Sara said.

“And I won’t stop you,” Gideon said. Sara gave her a quick hug before running around the back way to the American Embassy.

“Mick,” Sara nodded, stepping into the back foyer of the US Embassy as Sergeant Rory held the door open for her.

“She’s in her office, Captain,” Mick said, closing the door.

Sara smirked and smacked Mick on the arm. “Shut-up.”

“Something up?”

Sara’s smile fell. “What do you know?”

“They’re running around like headless chickens upstairs and you just came bursting through the back door. What’s happening ‘round the corner?”

“Hunter’s sending everyone home.”

“I’ll be the one turning out the lights and locking the doors here,” Mick said.

“Alice and the girls will be all right?”

“We don’t live in central Berlin. Can’t see there being too much trouble out there.”

Sara nodded. “Stay safe, Mick.”

“You too, Cap.”

Sara hurried up the stairs, finding the embassy in quite a bit of disarray. She went straight to Ava’s office and let herself in without knocking.

“Christ, Sara, knock next time,” Ava said, jumping when the door flew open unexpectedly.

“Get your things. We need to go.”

“What? Who’s orders? I can’t just leave the office in the middle of the day,” Ava said.

Sara closed the door behind herself. “Colonel Hunter’s. Gideon’s. Mine. Does it matter? The city’s about to erupt and we need to go now.”

“Sara, I don’t work for Colonel Hunter or Gideon. They work for a foreign government to mine. I know you have dual citizenship, but it seems awfully like your loyalty lies with our friends around the corner.”

“My loyalty lies with Gideon,” Sara said, trying to swallowed back the growing panic.

“What? How is that even - ” Ava said, meeting Sara’s eyes. “Sara, are you all right?”

Sara forced herself to breathe. “We need to go. I need you to trust me. Please, Ava.”

Sara’s plea hung in the air for a few moments before Ava sighed. “Fine. But if you get me fired - ”

“I’ll get you a new job, promise,” Sara said.

Ava stood up and grabbed her things. Sara opened the door and waited in the corridor.

“You heading home, Captain?” Nate asked, stopping when he saw her.

“Yeah,” Sara breathed.

“Yeah, I’m not hanging around much longer. Wilson’s just decided to send everyone home. The department heads here are furious, and the locals are adding fuel to the fire. I know its still early, but there’s been no attempts so far to quell the rioters, and I’ve just heard reports that the fucking SA are part of this too. It’s state-sanctioned violence.”

Sara nodded. “I know. You and Amaya stay safe.”

“You too,” Nate said, giving Sara’s shoulder a squeeze before continuing back to his office.

Ava noticed the gesture, and noticed how stressed Sara looked, jaw was clenched, shoulders tense and eyes too wide. “I’m ready,” Ava said, having overheard everything Nate said.

Sara nodded, trying to remember to breath. “We’ll get a cab.”

“You don’t have to escort me,” Ava said gently.

“I know,” Sara said, “But will you let me?”

Ava nodded. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked quietly. “You look stressed. Upset.”

“Not here,” Sara said as they began to descend the stairs.

Twenty minutes later the cab pulled up outside Ava’s block of flats. The driver had had to make a minor detour to avoid a road blocked by the rioters, and Ava had noticed how Sara had stiffened when he said they were so nearby.

“Come inside and get a cup of tea,” Ava said.

Sara didn’t argue, she paid the driver and climbed out, following Ava into the building. Even though the rioters were a few blocks away, they could still be heard. Ava wanted to hold Sara’s hand, but couldn’t risk the prying eyes of her neighbours. As soon as they reached Ava’s flat and stepped inside, Sara slammed the door closed, locked and bolted it, and sunk onto the couch.

Ava calmly removed her hat and coat, put down her bag and flicked on the lights.

“I was in Spain,” Sara breathed, hardly loud enough for Ava to hear.

“Oh?” Ava said, putting the kettle on, then coming to sit beside Sara. She took Sara’s hands in hers. “Oh, as in you were in Spain in the last few years? With the Civil War going on?”

Sara nodded. “I wish I could tell you everything. I want to, Ava, I really do, but…” Sara closed her eyes as her body shivered.

Ava wrapped her arm around Sara. “I understand why you can’t.”

“Gideon spoke to you while I was away?” Sara asked, leaning into Ava’s embrace, forcing herself to accept she was safe here.

Ava nodded. “But her explanation of what she wanted from me was poor at best, I’ve heard nothing since, and then she rather quickly changed the topic back to horse racing.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts, so many unspoken feelings and stories sitting between them.

“White Canary,” Sara said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Ava asked.

“It’s my codename. If anything happens, if you get caught out, or - I don’t know, Ava. I don’t know where all this is headed. But if you ever need me and can’t find me, or I’m not around and you need help, any of the British embassies or consulates in western Europe will take you in. I mean, they’ll put you in some badly furnished room and interrogate you for a bit, but if it come to that, tell them everything. Whoever talks to you will be… they’ll be employed like me. Though if the codenames get into the wrong hands, well, that’s the game over, isn’t it?”

“I - am I some sort of informant?” Ava asked.

Sara gave an awkward half-chuckle. “No. You’re someone I care about. I don’t want you to get hurt, Ava, and if I’m not around to help you… a few of our informants do know our codenames, but only the ones we trust with our lives.”

It took Ava a moment to register what Sara had said. “You - you trust me with your life?”

Sara shrugged and gave a small smile, “Might as well.”

Ava looked down at Sara’s face, her large blue eye pricked with tears, and felt a strong pull to kiss her, but the kettle whistled and Ava jumped to her feet.

“Sugar?”

“Just one, no milk,” Sara said, standing up to remove her hat and coat. “Thank-you.”

“It’s just tea.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I haven’t done anything else.”

“Not yet,” Sara said, as Ava brought the tea tray over to the table and Sara sat down. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, it was already getting dark, and Ava decided to close the curtains. “But by time we get through this, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“You’re going mad and talking nonsense, probably because you missed lunch,” Ava said, pushing the tea in front of Sara, trying to ignore everything Sara wasn’t saying out-loud. “What?” Ava asked, looking at Sara.

Sara smirked, looked Ava in the eye and sipped at her tea. “I cannot wait to take you to Paris.”

“It’s still months away.”

“Lucky I’m patient,” Sara said.

“You should stay,” Ava breathed. “I - It’s not safe. You won’t be able to find a cab.”

“Are you sure?” Sara asked. “I don’t want it to look… you know. Draw attention.”

“It’s fine,” Ava said.

Sara exhaled in relief. “Thank-you.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Ava said, “You can have the bed.”

“If I’m staying, I’m not forcing you out of your bed. Find some blankets, I’ll take the couch.”

“All right,” Ava said. “Guess we better figure out dinner. Can you cook?”

“Eggs,” Sara said. “Scrambled, fried, poached, boiled.”

“You can boil an egg?” Ava laughed.

“My soft-boiled eggs with soldiers are legendary,” Sara smiled. “I can also fry bacon.”

“So you can make breakfast, but what about dinner?”

“Why do you think I eat out so often?” Sara chuckled.

“Right, I’m teaching you how to cook,” Ava said.

There was a loud bang a few blocks away, and both women jumped. Ava looked at Sara and saw what little colour she’d had in her cheeks had disappeared again.

“Sara, are you…?”

“Ava, I…” Sara began, then looked away, shaking her head.

“I know. You can’t say,” Ava said, taking Sara’s hands in hers. Sara stood up and wrapped her arms around Ava’s neck, leaning her head against Ava’s shoulder. Ava placed her hands on the small of Sara’s back and gently rocked from side to side, as though the were dancing.

“I think this is illegal,” Sara said, closing her eyes.

“How can it be, when it feels so right?” Ava breathed, not letting go of Sara. “And I didn’t think you’d be too worried about a little unlawful activity?”

Sara chuckled weakly. “Only when it endangers someone I care about,” she said.

“It’s not illegal everywhere though, is it?”

“No,” Sara answered. “Most countries just pretend it doesn’t exist. They only don’t like it here because of their weird obsession with making babies. France, Britain… so long as you’re discreet, they’re not too concerned.”

There was another loud bang and more shouting outside. Sara clung to Ava, listening to her heartbeat. Ava held Sara a little tighter. “How many days until we go to Paris?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you very much for all the comments and kudos :D

Tuesday, 29th November, 1938

“Umm, Miss Sharpe?” Agent Green said, knocking on Ava’s office door.

“The door’s open, Gary,” Ava said, not looking up from the visa application forms in front of her.

“Of course, ma’am. I just - I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You are interrupting, but the door being opens means I don’t mind if you do. What do you want?”

“I - umm, thought you maybe, umm…”

“Spit it out, Gary.”

“I’ve been transferred to Edinburgh. I start there on Monday, which means I need to leave tomorrow,” Gary said, spewing out the words in one breath.

Ava put her stamp down and looked up. “Oh. Well, I’m sure you’ll like it in Scotland. Lots of castles, and I know you like visiting castles,” she said, not entirely sure what sort of reaction Gary was after.

“I do like castles,” Gary said. “And I won’t have to worry about my German not being quite 100% perfect. However I have no idea how I’m supposed to understand the local accent.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Ava smiled encouragingly. “Did you ask for a transfer?” Gary seemed happy in Berlin, but it wasn’t unusual for people to ask for a change every so often.

Gary sighed. “Not exactly. It was recommended that I take a position somewhere else. Somewhere away from all of this,” he said, gesturing out the window.

Ava purposefully sat with her back to the window so that she didn’t have to see the Swastika flags in the square outside. It ordinarily would have been a wonderful view of the Brandenburg Gate and glamorous building of the French Embassy across the square, but since the flags had become a permanent feature, she couldn’t bare to look. “Did something happen?” she asked.

“My mother’s Jewish,” Gary said.

“Oh,” Ava swallowed, feeling her stomach drop.

“It’s not fair, though,” Gary said. “She was born in the States, and I wasn’t raised as Jewish. Sure, I can understand Yiddish because my grandparents speak it, but it’s not fair, Miss Sharpe. I feel like I’ve done something wrong and that’s why I’m being transferred, even though I know I haven’t. I like Berlin. Or at least I like the idea of it. I don’t like what’s happening now and to be honest, it is really quite scary, but I don’t want to go. It’s not fair.”

Ava didn’t think she’d ever heard the young man string so many sentences together at once. She wished she had something useful to say. “You’ll be missed around here. Our loss is Edinburgh’s gain.”

Gary sighed dramatically. “Thank-you, Miss Sharpe, but I feel like I’m running away. And it’s not fair because I’m being handed the paperwork to leave Germany on a silver platter, when every day there are queues of people trying to get visas. People like my grandparents. People who haven’t done anything wrong, but they can’t stay here. Why can’t we do something like the Kindertransport? Why can’t we do more practical to help? Recalling the Ambassador sends a message, but - I-I’m sorry, Miss Sharpe,” Gary said, recomposing himself, “I’m getting much too worked up. I just wanted to inform you that I’ll be packing up my things, and I hope very much to work with you again in the future.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Ava said, standing up. She walked around her desk and gave Gary a hug. She could feel his heart pounding, and patted his back. “It won’t be the same without you, Mr Green. Stay safe. Send word when you get to Edinburgh.”

Gary held onto Ava. “I will, Miss Sharpe. You stay safe too, all right?”

“I will,” Ava said, letting go of Gary.

“You give good hugs,” Gary grinned.

“Don’t go telling anyone,” Ava said in mock seriousness, realising how much she was going to miss the goofy young man. “I have a reputation to keep.”

“And what reputation might that be, Miss Sharpe?”

“Miss Lance!” Ava grinned.

“Oh, hello, Miss Lance. I - I was just…”

“That’s great, Mr Green,” Sara said, guiding Gary out of Ava’s office. “Lunchtime walk in the Tiergarten, Miss Sharpe?”

“Of course,” Ava smiled.

“I’ll come by your office about half-twelve. It’s chaos around here.It’s one thing for the President to recall the Ambassador, but it would be helpful to think about who’s going to steer the ship in the interim. Also, turns out sending Wilson home has upset the local authorities quite a lot.”

“It has caused a bit of pandemonium, I’ll give you that,” Ava said.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I meant to give it back when I returned weeks ago. Thank-you for the lend of your handkerchief. It’s been washed,” Sara smiled, holding out the neat folded piece of fabric, with Ava’s initials embroidered on the corner.

Ava laughed, taking the handkerchief she’d given to Sara back in May. “Thank-you. I’ll see you later, Miss Lance.”

Sara waved and closed the door behind her. Ava sat down at her desk and went to put the handkerchief in her bag when a slip of paper fell out of it. She picked up the paper and looked at the list of four names, all of which she vaguely recognised, and a circle in the bottom left corner. Ava pocketed the handkerchief and rummaged through the pile of visa applications on her desk, finding the four the matched the names on the list. After a quick examination of the papers, she realised that all of them were for Jewish families, and none of them quite met the conditions for entry, but surely their names were on the list for good reason.

On the bottom of each application was the box for official use, to the right was the box to reject the application, and on the left the box to approve them. Approving the papers wouldn’t be breaking any rules as such, it would just be sloppy administration. Wouldn’t it? Ava had never made a mistake, and she knew her superiors didn’t check her work.

It was no mistake that the paper had been inside the handkerchief from Sara. Gideon was calling Ava into the game, asking her to do nothing more than her job.

…

Friday, 10th March, 1939

Christmas had come and gone, 1938 rolled into 1939, though the new year brought increasing dangers and little hope of anything but buying more time before the inevitable. At least Sara and Ava were able to spend the bleak Berlin winter planning their Paris escape for the wedding of Ray and Nora.

As always, when they arrived at Gare du Nord it full of steam and smoke and busy with passengers, both local and from afar. Sara kept hold of Ava’s hand, not wanting to loose her in a foreign country. She knew that Ava would be perfectly capable of getting about on her own, but she felt the need to protect her in what was for Ava an unknown city. Sara would never dare to hold Ava’s hand in public Berlin, so this was a first, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“There he is!” Sara grinned. “Tall guy by the entrance. And Nora! Oh my gosh, they’re getting married tomorrow. Why are they both here?”

Ava noticed the couple standing by the entrance to the station. Ray saw Sara and waved enthusiastically.

“Bonsoir ma chérie Mademoiselle Lance!” Ray grinned, pulling Sara into a bear hug.

“Good to see you too, Ray,” Sara laughed, wrapping her arms around Ray’s skinny frame.

“Sara Lance. Only you can spend however many hours in transit and show up looking this good,” Nora said as Ray let Sara go, only for his fiancée to pull her into a hug.

“And you must be Ava. I’m Ray Palmer. So lovely to meet you. This is Nora, my fiancée. Thank-you so much for accompanying Miss Lance. I know she is a very capable woman, but I don’t like her travelling alone,” Ray said, surprising Ava with a hug.

“It’s perfectly safe,” Sara said. “Well, it is once you leave Germany. Besides, Ava is my friend, not my chaperone. I’m not a child,” she said.

“Well, calming influence then,” Nora teased.

“You didn’t need to pick us up,” Sara said, “You’re getting married tomorrow. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Oh, this is only our eighth trip to Gare du Nord in the past few days, plus three to Gare de Lyon, so really, one more trip is not an issue at all,” Nora said, linking arms with Ray as they lead the way out onto the street.

“If we’re collecting one guest, we’re collecting them all!” Ray grinned, as Sara again took Ava by the hand. “Wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out.”

“The Heywoods and Gideon got here in one piece then?” Sara asked.

“All good,” Nora said, as they approached their car. “The Tarazis and Charlie arrived the same afternoon, so that was a busy day. Luggage in the boot, please. Miss Sharpe, would you like the front passenger seat?”

“Oh, no, really, I - ”

“Take it, Aves,” Sara said, placing her suitcase in the back of the car and taking Ava’s from her. “We’re still good on our little surprise?” Sara asked Ray.

“I can’t believe you’ve been working in Germany for five years and never been to France,” Nora said, opening the passenger door for Ava.

“I - well, Germany is a fairly big country, and my job keeps me busy,” Ava said, her hand still warm from Sara’s touch. “When I was in Munich I did enjoy going into the Alps every so often. Oh, and I went to Rügen last summer with the Heywoods.”

“The French Alps are worth visiting too. Mont Blanc on a clear day is unbeatable. Excellent skiing at Chamonix too,” Ray said, starting the engine as they all piled in. “Well, ladies, welcome to Ray Palmer’s Guided Automobile Tours of Paris. Depending on traffic, we will now be embarking on a roughly half-hour or so long tour of the main sights before dropping you off at your hotel.”

“Oh, that’s really not - ” Ava began.

Sara reached forward and put her hand on Ava’s shoulder. “I know we’re here for five nights, but I want you to see some of the city today. Just the major sights. We’ll go exploring later in the week, but you can’t come to Paris and not see the Eiffel Tower as soon as you get here.”

Ava looked back at Sara and grinned. “All right. Mr Palmer, we’re in your capable hands.”

It took nearly an hour for Ray to complete his scenic route to the hotel, going via Montmartre and Sacre Coeur, before winding his way down to pass the Palais Garnier, south and west past Notre Dame Cathedral, along the Quai D’Orsay past the Eiffel Tower, up and around the Arc de Triomphe, then down the Champs-Elysées, before finally arriving at their hotel.

“And the American Embassy is just around the corner, in case you get into trouble,” Ray grinned as he took their cases from the trunk. Sara chuckled and shook her head.

“Thank-you so much for this,” Ava said, positively beaming. During the tour night had rolled in, along with clouds that threatened rain. Ava was hungry and worn out from travelling, but felt like a child again, having seen those famous landmarks.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Sara said, giving Ray a hug and Nora French-style air-kisses. “Try and get some sleep.”

“You too,” Nora said.

“Won’t be an issue,” Sara smiled and yawned. “Dinner first, though.”

“The restaurant here is excellent,” Ray said, as he pulled the unsuspecting Ava into a bear hug.

“I know. I stay here every time, unless I’m with you. All right, all right, let my girl breathe,” Sara laughed. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ray and Nora climbed back into their car and Sara and Ava waved them off, before heading into the golden glowing foyer of the Hotel de Bristol. Ava was grateful for the warmth and tried not to show her amazement at the luxurious hotel Sara had booked for them.

“My girl?” Ava asked quietly.

“Shut up,” Sara said.

“I’m not complaining,” Ava confessed. “I - I think I could get used to it.”

Sara grinned. “Bonsoir. Un réservation pour deux pour Mademoiselle Lance,” she smiled to the concierge. Ava tried not to be too impressed by Sara’s rapid-fire French.

A couple of minutes later Sara and Ava were unpacking their suitcases in their spacious, well-decorated third-floor twin room.

“Do you always stay in places like this?” Ava asked, before realising that sounded rude.

“What’s the point of travelling if your accomodation is worse than your day-to-day?” Sara asked.

“That is a fair point, Mademoiselle Lance,” Ava said.

Sara caught Ava’s eye and laughed. “Your accent is terrible. Come on, we need to freshen up. I booked us a table in the hotel restaurant at 7:30.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugh Wilson, the US Ambassador to Germany, was recalled by President Roosevelt after the Kristallnacht, and didn’t return to Germany. The Nazi party were not impressed to say the least.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for all the lovely comments :D

Saturday, 11th March, 1939

“Bathroom’s all yours,” Ava said, stepping back into the bedroom, her hair in long, loose curls, face beautifully made-up with red lipstick and tasteful eye make-up.

Sara grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her dressing gown, with a lustful look in her eyes as she admired Ava’s appearance. She had finished disassembling the laurel wreath tiara to reset the pieces onto hair combs, ready to slide into her low bun.

Last night they had enjoyed their meal in the restaurant, but Ava had started yawning half-way through, then Sara started to do the same, which caused to them both to get the giggles. When they returned to their room, they pushed their beds together, and Sara had been happily surprised to wake with Ava’s arm draped across her.

“Do I look all right?” Ava asked, apprehensive. “Not too much?”

“You look perfect,” Sara replied.

“You’re sure? Because I don’t do this very often. Get all made-up, I mean. And we’re in Paris, so I feel the need to make an extra effort. Plus I hardly know these people, and - ”

“Ava,” Sara said, standing up and taking Ava’s hands. “We’ll be sitting with those you do know. Other than Charlie of course, but you know so much about her, it’s like you’ve already met. You look beautiful. Trust me. Now, let me help you into your dress.”

“Are you going to get made-up?” Ava asked, regretfully letting go of Sara’s hands to go to the wardrobe and take out her dress.

“Of course, I just - ” Sara stopped and sighed, sitting back down, her stomach tightening. Every couple of weeks since November, Sara had been slipping Ava a list of names of people who needed visas. The British Embassy could only let so many people who didn’t quite meet the visa application requirements slip through the cracks, and having someone inside the US Embassy able to pick up some of those they couldn’t take was a huge help. Whether she realised it or not, Ava was working for the SIS, and Sara was tired of keeping things from her. She could tell Ava the basic version of events, which Nate and Zari knew, but Ava deserved more than that. “There’s something you need to know.”

Ava draped the dress across her bed frame. “Have I…?”

“No, no,” Sara said quickly. “I - It’s about me. Just incase anyone mentions anything. I mean, they probably won’t, but once alcohol gets involved, well, you know…”

Ava pursed her lips and perched on the edge of her bed besides Sara.

“About Spain,” Sara said.

“Oh,” Ava said, louder than intended.

Sara launched straight into the story. “We’d been there for a few months, my partner and I. But then in July ‘36 when the Civil War started, things escalated so quickly.”

“You got caught there?” Ava asked, but immediately felt bad for interrupting.

Sara nodded, avoiding Ava’s eyes as she inserted the hair combs into her bun. “Sort of. Caught up, more like. We were all right for a few weeks, but then… We were at a bar, one of our usual haunts near the university in Seville. Lecturers love an audience, and we were more than happy to listen. Some of them may probably guessed at who we were, or knew we had links to the American Government, and maybe that made them feel all the more important. Of course a lot of people talk a lot of rot, but Ollie and I were pretty good at finding the specks of gold amongst the sand. But that night,” Sara sighed before continuing. “A lot of people were outside in the streets. It was so mild. I’d gone in to get more drinks. Suddenly there was all this shouting and commotion from down the street. Shots fired. The power cut out. People started yelling and screaming, some trying to get off the street into the bar, others trying to get out and get away. I - ” Sara’s voice hitched.

Ava gently touched Sara’s arm, just above the elbow. Sara jumped.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to startle you,” Ava said. “You don’t have to tell me this.”

“You need to know. You deserve to know,” Sara said, turning to look at Ava.

“I don’t - ”

“Are my hair combs in straight?”

Ava leant back to check. “Yes.”

“Good,” Sara placed her hand on top of Ava’s before continuing. “The bar was stormed. The rioters were drunk on alcohol and violent ideology. They were targeting academics, liberals, people whose ideology they thought might be a threat. I don’t know by how many men there were. They opened fire. I could hear people screaming, crying out for help. Someone let off a homemade bomb.”

“In the bar?” Ava’s eyes widened.

Sara nodded. “I think I blacked out. I don’t know how much time passed. My ears were ringing when I woke up. I think I was aware of people screaming, and I knew I had to get out. I had no idea where Oliver was. At some stage I realised I’d been shot, the bullet grazed across my waist. And there were multiple shards of glass and splinters of what had been tables and chairs lodged into my back and leg.”

Ava inhaled and felt as though she’d been kicked in the guts.

Sara lightly squeezed Ava’s hand and continued. “Something must have been on fire, because I could see. I got up, went to the bar, drank half a bottle of straight and used the rest to try and disinfect the wounds as I pulled the glass and splinters out. I got out of the bar and stumbled blindly for a couple of blocks before collapsing. I don’t know how many hours I was there, or even where exactly I was, but around dawn by some miracle I was found by a friend who worked at the university. No one had touched me in the interim; I suppose I looked like a beat-up corpse that no one wanted to go near. But Cisco took me back to his place, and kept me hidden and alive for a couple of days before he could get me to the US Consulate. He’s a wonderful mechanical engineering professor, but his medical skills leave a bit to be desired,” Sara smiled weakly, noticing how tense Ava was.

Ava remembered to breathe and nodded.

“Anyway,” Sara went on, finding it easy to talk now she had started. “I was in the Consulate for a about a week, I think. There was some diplomatic wrangling between the US and London. No one knew if I had information, or quite what had happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Ava asked.

Sara entwined her fingers with Ava’s and leant against her. “Because when I say I wasn’t very well, well, I probably should have died, Ava. When I was conscious I wasn’t particularly lucid, and I wasn’t conscious very often. The wounds got infected.”

“Oh shit,” Ava breathed.

Sara shrugged. “I had fever and chills, could hardly keep any food down, was struggling to breathe, and very confused. In the end Gideon somehow got involved and I was shipped back to London. I spent two months in hospital, then another four months in the country house of my friend John. It’s not far from Liverpool, where he lives and works, and Charlie stayed there with me. I was so drained and so weak and felt like I’d failed everything.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Ava said, blinking back tears, not wanting to ruin her make-up. “You were working and your job went wrong.”

“I thought I’d lost Oliver,” Sara said sadly.

“Oh.”

“I hadn’t, but I didn’t know that then. He’d gotten himself to the US Consulate the night of the riots with much less severe injuries than mine. Two days later he was sent back to the US. He now lives in Star City with his wife and baby daughter. Someone, probably Gideon, pulled some strings and got a visa for Cisco too. He is now also settled in Star City.”

“Oh,” Ava said again, wishing she had something more substantial to contribute. “Were you and he, Oliver, I mean, we you…?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “It never would have worked out long term, but yes. It helped with our cover. People thought we were married. That opened a lot of doors, especially for me.”

“Wait, so you, do you like…?”

“I like men. And I like women,” Sara shrugged.

“Oh,” Ava said. “Well I only like, ah…” Ava cleared her throat. “Only women.”

“And that’s quite all right with me,” Sara said, lifting Ava’s hand up to kiss it.

“But I’m your girl now?” Ava asked.

Sara grinned, “Yes, you’re my girl now.”

Ava smiled. “Sorry, do you want to continue your story?”

“Yeah,” Sara said, “So, Oliver was part of the Berlin group in the early 30’s. Oliver, Ray, Nate, occasionally Zari, and me. We worked together on-and-off for a couple of years, sometimes with Behrad joining us when he was on holidays from university, and we had a lot of fun. In a way we were the worst team ever, a bunch of misfits, foreigners and girls. The work wasn’t overly important compared to other things going on, and I don’t know how many times Gideon got us out of a close shave, but it was fun. Oliver and I are the only ones who can speak Spanish, hence why we got transferred. It’s just a shame it had to end the way it did.”

Ava nodded, gently rubbing the back of Sara’s hand with her thumb, doing mental arithmetic. “So, when I first met you, when you came back to Berlin…?”

“I’d spent the previous six months in London, trying to get my head back in the game as much as anything,” Sara said, smiling softly and leaning into Ava. “I’d been ready to give it up, move back to the US. Resign myself to stacking shelves in a shop because I am a terrible typist. Gideon got wind that I was thinking of leaving and sent me this massive hand-written essay outlining all the reasons I needed to stay, and more than just stay, come back into the fold. She said she could get me a gig in Paris or back in Berlin. It was enough to convince me to stay.”

“How did she know you wanted to leave?”

Sara smirked. “Charlie told her. I didn’t know that at the time; I got Charlie to confess when I visited last year, after Gideon had dropped some not-so-subtle hints. I think you’ll like Charlie. She’s unorthodox, has minimal regard for rules and regulations and being told what to do, but she’s one of the good ones.”

Ava nodded. “All your people are.”

“Are what?”

“Good ones,” Ava said.

Sara smiled softly. “They’re not officially my people,” she said, giving Ava’s shoulder a bump.

“They call you Captain,” Ava said with the upmost respect.

“You don’t.”

“I think I could now,” Ava said.

Sara looked at her. “Really? I tell you my least heroic story, the one where I’m scared, sick and injured for all of it, and that’s the one that wins you over?”

Ava blushed, but couldn’t explain why. “You care so much about everyone else. You need to take care of yourself too, Miss Lance.”

“I take very good care, Miss Sharpe,” Sara said, nudging Ava. “Well, I do now anyway. However, if we don’t get going in the very near future, we will be late and in trouble from Gideon, not to mention Ray and Nora.”

“Thank-you,” Ava said gently as Sara stood up. “I - for telling me this. About Spain.”

Sara nodded. “Well, my reasons aren’t entirely selfless. I need your help do up my dress up and I didn’t want you to panic when you saw my body.”

Ava swallowed and nodded.

“Do you need a hand to get dressed?” Sara asked.

“Go and get yourself made-up,” Ava said, wanting to hold Sara in her arms like she had the night of the riots in Berlin, but knew there would be time for that later. “Zips to make it much easier to dress oneself.”

Sara smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Was that why you were so afraid, during the riots in November?” Ava asked, removing her dressing gown.

“Yes. I’m not worried about crowds,” Sara said. “But when the situation is completely out of my control like that… that sort of violence, I - ”

“I understand,” Ava said, stepping into her dress. “There’s still so much you can’t say, isn’t there?”

Sara stepped out of the bathroom, holding her lipstick. “Always will be.”

Ava nodded. “I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Sara asked, eyes on Ava.

“Well, maybe just a little bit,” Ava confessed, zipping up her dress, fully aware of Sara’s gaze.

“At least I’m very able to say exactly what I’m thinking about right now,” Sara said, stepping back into the bathroom.

“And that is?” Ava asked, grabbing her shoes. Sara was going to make them late.

“How I can’t wait to unzip and peel that dress off you later on,” Sara grinned and pursed her lips to perfectly spread her killer red lipstick.

Sara was going to make them very late indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Septicaemia (blood poisoning often caused by a wound getting infected) was and is a very serious illness. My brother had it to other year and spent a few nights in hospital while his body was pumped with antibiotics and other drugs to fight it off. My great-grandfather was sick with it back in the 1930s and spent six months in hospital. He developed a crush on one of the nurses, and went on to spend 50 years happily married to her :)


	9. Chapter 9

Sara and Ava arrived in time for the wedding ceremony, though Gideon still berated them for making her her think that they might be late. Ava found it strange to see Gideon all dressed up, and not in her usual work frock and jacket, with her hair up high and wearing glittering art-deco earrings. Ava and Sara said a quick hello to Ray and Nate, who was Ray’s best man, and again Ava found it strange seeing Nate in a morning suit instead of his usual houndstooth jacket. Inside, they saw Amaya sitting with Ray’s mother and brother, before they found Charlie, wearing a lovely cream gown. Sara made introductions with Ava.

“Sara’s letters hardly mention anything but you. All bloody summer last year, it was Ava-this and Ava-that. I wouldn’t have a clue what’s going on it Berlin unless you’re involved in it,” Charlie said and winked.

Sara rolled her eyes, and Ava blushed. “Oh, right, well, she’s told me lots of wonderful things about you too. I’ve very glad to meet you.” Ava went to shake hands, but Charlie pulled her in for those silly air-kisses.

They were then reunited with the Tarazis, both looking extremely fashionable, Zari in a gold gown and Behrad in a morning suit, and chattering over the top of one another about their adventures in Paris with Charlie, Gideon and the Heywoods over the past couple of days.

The ceremony soon started. Nora looked beautiful in a lacy white gown, her father beaming as he handed her to Ray. Ava felt Sara bristle beside her.

“What?” Ava asked.

“Later,” Sara whispered.

Halfway through the wedding ceremony, Ava began to suspect that she was the only guest without at least conversational French. She knew the niceties, but was grateful she had Sara to do all the talking at the hotel. Ava was sure the majority of the guests spoke English, but she also noticed that they all seemed to be following the ceremony, whereas she was quite lost.

The sun was shining as they made their way to the house M. Darhk had booked for the wedding reception. Sara, Ava and Charlie walked down the block together.

“Nora’s father is a notorious international smuggler of everything,” Sara explained, holding Ava’s hand as they walked. They were out of earshot of any other guests, and Sara wanted to explain who M. Darhk was to Ava before the lunch.

“I can’t believe we still don’t have solid enough intel to lock him up,” Charlie said, shaking his head.

“Oh, the intel’s solid enough,” Sara grumbled, “But so is his diplomatic immunity. Not to mention the blackmail material he has on anyone who’s tried to put him away. There’s a couple of countries who have been able to black list him, but the man is a rat.”

“Is he a commie?” Ava asked.

Sara shrugged and Charlie shook her head. “Nah, his politics are just chaos. He’s got deals with the Soviets, deals with Hitler and Co, deals with Rome, and deal in Spain with both the Nationalists and Republicans. The worse the situation gets, the more money he makes selling everyone weapons and whatever else they want but probably have sanctions against getting their hands on.”

“So long as he’s not causing obvious trouble in France, the French government won’t touch him,” Sara said, loud enough that only Ava and Charlie could hear her. “He knows there’s a target on him, but he’s been lying low in France since the Spanish Civil War kicked off.”

“Easy enough when you own a chateaux down south. I reckon I could lay low there too,” Charlie said. “Here we are, you know the rules, no talking shop at the table.”

“I process visas,” Ava said.

“Yeah, but the crew you roll with don’t,” Charlie winked as they entered the ballroom and were shown to their table by a waiter. There were six tables set up in the ballroom, and Ava was glad to be seated with Sara, Gideon, Amaya, the Tarazis and Charlie, with Nate sitting on the top table with the wedding party.

“There’s more women than men,” Sara said, going a quick scan on the room as people took their seats.

“So…?” Ava asked.

“Makes it easier to dance together. Not that they care much about that sort of thing over here anyway,” Charlie grinned, looking at Zari.

Ava blushed.

“Ava, darling, trust us, no one here cares,” Zari said, “Sara, you’ll have to come take her to Le Monocle. Sadly we leave for Calais Monday afternoon, so won’t be able to join you.”

“Be nice. Ava’s new to all this,” Sara said protectively.

“It’s just a suggestion, Cap,” Charlie said, "We all know you’ve had a few wild nights there.”

“Behave,” Gideon said, as waiters came around serving the soup course.

“Oh, come on, Gideon,” Charlie said. “You’ll dance with me here, yeah? Sara’s the best but I think her card’s gunna be pretty full.”

Ava smiled, having heard about Sara’s dancing skills a number of times in Berlin.

“You two are coming with us to Ladurée Monday morning, no excuses,” Zari said. “I am not missing out. Gideon, you can come too. I’ll get our concierge to make a booking when we go back to the hotel later on and send you the time.”

“You ate half a dozen macarons from there this morning and you already want to go back?” Charlie asked.

“They don’t make macarons like that anywhere else, not with the ganache in the middle,” Zari counted.

“That sounds fine with me,” Ava said, gently nudging Sara. “I’m happy to try the local delicacies. Sara?”

“Hmm?”

“Elbows off the table.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sara said, noticing the waiter beside her. She moved her arms and he placed a bowl of soup in front of her.

“Are you all right?” Ava asked quietly.

“I just wish he wasn’t here,” Sara said, picking up her spoon and concentrating on her soup. “I’m glad we’re seated furthest from their table. As much as I want to strangle him with his own tie, I can restrain myself for one day, especially knowing that tonight he’ll slither back to whatever hole he came out of.”

Ava placed her hand on Sara’s thigh. “Have a drink. Eat your soup. I can’t wait to see what dance moves you really have.”

Part of Sara wanted to stay sour and moody at M. Darhk, but being in Paris with the woman she had fallen hard for by her side, and her closest and most trusted friends with them, it wasn’t fair to stay mad. “I hope those shoes are comfortable,” Sara said, a smile creeping onto her face as she picked up her spoon. “Because once the band starts, you’re going to see what I’m really skilled at.”

“I thought you were going to show me that later,” Ava said under her breath.

“Ava Sharpe!” Sara grinned.

“Eat your soup,” Ava repeated, avoiding Sara’s eyes and hoping no one noticed her blushing.

…

M. Darhk discreetly left the wedding luncheon after dessert was served, much to Sara’s relief. She enjoyed the afternoon immensely, dancing and drinking with her closest friends. She shared half the dances with Ava, having one dance each with Charlie, Zari, Behrad, Gideon, Nate, Amaya, Nora and Ray.

While Sara was dancing with Gideon, Zari with Behrad, and Amaya with Ray, Charlie and Nate came over to the table and sat down with Ava, who had been enjoying a couple of moments to herself.

“You and Sara are the kids Gideon never had,” Nate said, nudging Charlie.

“Dunno if I’m that special, Nate,” Charlie said, pouring herself another glass of champagne.

“You literally live in her house rent free.”

“It’s not right to leave it empty with Gideon off gallivanting around the continent. Pretty sure a lot of the neighbours think I’m staff.”

“They’re just jealous they live don’t live there.”

“They’re the neighbours, Nate. All the houses are exactly the same,” Charlie laughed. “They look happy. Sara’s gunna be exhausted, she hasn’t sat down since we finished eating.”

“Gideon means a lot to Sara, doesn’t she?” Ava asked.

Nate and Charlie nodded. “It goes both ways. That week or so when was Sara missing in Spain were painful for us all,” Nate said.

Ava asked. “You both know about that?”

“Obviously,” Charlie said, swirling her drink. “I’m the one who nursed her back to health.”

Ava gave Charlie a smile.

“I know more or less,” Nate said, “What Sara and Gideon have allowed me to know. When the situation first went south with Sara and Oliver, information was travelling slowly in and out of Spain. It still does. As soon as Gideon found out where Sara was, she called in about half a dozen favours and raced back to London to oversee Sara’s care herself.”

“I remember being at the hospital, watching Gideon giving these big-wig doctors a right dressing down. They tried telling us a few times that Sara wasn’t gunna make it, but Gideon was having none of that. Neither was Sara, obviously,” Charlie said, watching Sara laughing as Gideon twirled her around.

“What does Gideon actually do?” Ava asked, as much to herself as to Nate and Charlie.

Charlie raised her eyebrows.

“I know, I know, you can’t actually say,” Ava said, realising what she had asked.

“Gideon deals in information and favours,” Charlie said. “She can’t be bought or bribed; she’s inherited half of the Bank of England or something. She’s worth a bloody mint.”

“And she’s never married?”

“Not for other’s lack of trying,” Charlie said. “I think it’s half the reason she spends so much time abroad. Folks outside of her fancy circles don’t know how much she has tucked away. She bought me a bloody race horse because I made a joke about never having a pony as a kid, then called me Charlotte for the whole week at Royal Ascot.”

“It is your name,” Nate said, making a mental note to tell Ray not enough whiskey was on offer.

“If I may ask,” Ava said quietly, “Is she, Gideon… well, is she like me?As in, does she…?” Ava wasn’t sure how to word what she was trying to ask.

“Dunno,” Charlie said, understanding all the same. “Dunno if she’s interested either way. She’ll make a black joke from time to time about everyone she once could have married being killed in the trenches or already married. Sara found some gossip articles from the mid-twenties about Gideon and the Duke of Windsor. Of course, he was Prince of Wales back then. On paper, the match would have been fine, in practice, probably not so much.” Charlie looked back to the dance floor at Sara and Gideon. “You’re very lucky, having Sara.”

“I - I know,” Ava said. “Thank-you.”

“I was so happy when she came back to Berlin,” Nate said.

“I love her to bits but was bloody glad to stick her on the train and send her off!” Charlie laughed. “I’m glad she went back. She was so hard on herself, thinking it was her fault that Oliver had been hurt at all when she’d nearly died, and hated the feeling that she’d left him behind. It was stupid, none of it was her fault, but I remember her promising she’d never leave anyone behind again.”

The song ended and everyone applauded the band. People made their way to find drinks or new dance partners or both.

“Ava Sharpe, I haven’t had the pleasure for a whole ten or so minutes,” Sara said, coming over to the table and holding her hand out to Ava. “Care to dance?”

“Don’t you ever need to rest?” Ava teased, taking Sara’s hand

“Eh, I can do that on the train in a few days. Come on,” Sara said, pulling Ava to her feet as she smiled a smile that Ava couldn’t resist.

…

It was dark by time Sara and Ava returned to Hotel de Bristol, and they giggled the whole way up to their room, both carrying their shoes, feet sore from dancing. Ava was sure they must look ridiculous, but was having too much fun too care.

It was lovely to return to a room with the beds made, pyjamas folded, and fresh towels in the bathroom, all provided by someone else. Ava reminded herself to travel more, and perhaps to allow herself a little more luxury when she did. Sara dropped her shoes unceremoniously beside the wardrobe and set about closing the curtains.

“This has been a really good day,” Ava said, getting a drink of water from the bathroom. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a wedding. The lunch was delicious and I definitely don’t need dinner.”

“Me either,” Sara said, entering the bathroom as well. She took out her earrings and rubbed her ears. “Those are pretty, but they’re bloody heavy,” she said as she placed the earrings in their box.

“I liked meeting Charlie,” Ava said, removing her jewellery and carefully putting it away.

“Told you you’d like her,” Sara said, grabbing a face cloth and wetting it.

“You haven’t mention M. Darhk before,” Ava said, grabbing her hairbrush and stepping out of the bathroom to give Sara some space. There was a full-length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door she could use. Her curls had long since dropped and with all the dancing, her hair was now quite a mess.

“There was no guarantee he’d come,” Sara said. “Even last night Nora and Ray didn’t know for certain.”

“I’m sorry,” Ava said after a moment, fighting a particular knotted piece of hair.

“For?”

“What happened. In Spain. I hope you don’t mind that Nate and Charlie talked about it.”

“That’s fine. And it was years back.”

“Still,” Ava said, the hair coming loose at last. “It’s a horrible thing to happen. You’re lucky to have people like Gideon and Charlie.”

“And you,” Sara said, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth. She watched as Ava finished de-tangling her hair, the long blonde locks falling down her back.

Ava looked up at Sara. “I - I’m just…”

Sara returned to the bathroom and rinsed her out her mouth. “I’m not sure I would have come back to Berlin last year if you weren’t there,” Sara said, wiping her mouth on her towel. Ava rejoined her in the bathroom and wet the other face cloth as Sara carefully removed the laurel combs from her hair.

“In November?” Ava asked.

Sara nodded. “Your letters, they meant more than you realise.”

“I…” Ava didn’t know what to say. “What would have you done?”

Sara shrugged, pulling out her hairpins, her hair falling in curls around her shoulders. “Possibly taken a job in Paris or even Brussels. Maybe stayed in London. Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

Ava looked at Sara through the mirror. “You came back for me?”

Sara shrugged again, running her fingers through her hair. “Couldn’t think of anything better to do. Come on, I need you to help me out of this dress, and it’s been rubbing against my shoulder.”

Ava stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. She looked like a mess with her partly removed make-up and tired eyes. Sara Lance came back to Berlin for her? Ava could feel her heart pounding in her chest, yet her mind felt clear. She rinsed the face cloth as best she could. She wanted Sara. It wasn’t safe in Berlin. Not anymore and especially not for people like them. Was Charlie like them too? Is that what she’d implied earlier? And Zari? They certainly seemed close, but Charlie had had a lot of champagne which can make anyone more affectionate. Ava washed her face again, trying to get off the last of the make-up. How did Sara find all these people with similar interests? And the fabulous, mysterious Sara Lance was most interested in _her_?

Ava dried her face and went into the bedroom. Sara smiled and turned around as Ava stepped up to undo her dress. “Sorry if my hands are cold.”

“It’s fine,” Sara said, brushing her hair over one shoulder so it was out of Ava’s way. Ava slowly and carefully undid the small mother-of-pearl buttons down the back of Sara’s dress, revealing more and more of her undergarments as Sara let the straps slip down her shoulders and pull the dress open.

“That’s better,” Sara exhaled, letting go of her hair.

Ava noticed marks on Sara’s shoulders where the strap had been digging in. She ran her thumb gently across the hot red mark on Sara’s left shoulder, which contrasted with the white scar of a similar size running parallel to it. Sara leant into the touch and turned to face Ava.

“Gosh, you’re beautiful,” she said, tucking a lose strand of Ava’s hair behind her ear.

Ava reached up to touch Sara’s face, running her fingers along her jawline and stopping at her chin. “We’re not very normal, are we?” Ava asked.

Sara smirked. “Who wants normal when you can have this?”

“Oh, god yes,” Ava said, as Sara wrapped her arms around Ava’s neck and stood on tip-toes to kiss her passionately. Sara’s hands had worked their magic, somehow unzipping Ava’s dress while they were kissing.

“I think,” Sara said a couple of minutes later, her dress long since having fallen to the ground, “That we might like to hop onto the beds, to avoid getting cold.”

Ava grinned as she stepped out of her dress and hung it up. “I think, Miss Lance, that I would like that very much indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le Monocle was a lesbian nightclub in Paris in the 1920s and ‘30s, but was forced to close during the Nazi occupation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fun in Paris. Writing this, and planning Sara and Ava's itinerary made me really want to go back!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments :)

Sunday, 12th March, 1939

Sara and Ava both slept in, worn out from the wedding and the long day of travel the day before. Ava was dozing while Sara slid out of bed, quickly got dressed, slipped out of their room and returned ten minutes later with a waiter carrying a tray of freshly baked pastries and coffee. Sara took the tray from the waiter, and entered their room.

“Ton petit-déjeuner, Mademoiselle Sharpe,” Sara said, placing the tray on the bed before kicking off her shoes.

“You know exactly how attractive it is when you speak French, don’t you?” Ava said, sitting up and combing her hand through her hair. “But I thought you went to the bathroom.”

“I do and I did. Then I went and got us breakfast. I don’t know about you, but it turns out I worked up quite an appetite yesterday,” Sara said, climbing back onto the bed and giving Ava a peck on the lips. “We deserve a lazy Sunday.”

“Everything’s closed today, isn’t it?” Ava asked, pouring the coffee.

Sara shrugged. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to do, and the hotel takes care of our food. They’re not going to let the guests starve. I know neither of us are particularly religious, but I thought we might go to church at Notre Dame this morning. Take an hour to soak up the atmosphere, and listen to the organ and choir.”

“I won’t understand what’s going on though,” Ava said.

“Neither will I,” Sara said, biting into a pastry filled with apple slices and a custard-cream.

Ava raised an eyebrow and took a croissant from the tray.

“They’re Catholic, Aves. It’s in Latin,” Sara explained. “Trust me, Notre Dame’s worth experiencing in any language. Then we’ll have a picnic lunch in le Jardin des Tuileries with the Heywoods and maybe Gideon. The early spring bulbs will be flowering, and maybe some early blossom too. After that we can go for a little walk, just the two of us, and come back to the hotel for dinner.”

“You’ve really got this all planned out, don’t you Miss Lance?” Ava grinned.

“I thought you were going to call me Captain Lance, now, Miss Sharpe?” Sara teased, licking pastry flakes off her lips in a way that was much too sensual at this hour of the morning.

“I believe I said that I _could,_ not that I _would,_ Miss Lance,” Ava replied, sipping her coffee, dropping crumbs from her croissant onto the bed.

Sara chuckled. “And yes, I do have everything planned out. We don’t have time to see and do everything, but I’ll make sure you see the main sights. Paris isn’t going anywhere. We’ll be back.”

“I’m looking forward to it already,” Ava said.

…

Monday, 13th March, 1939

“I - this - this is incredible!” Ava said, gripping the railing with one hand and holding tightly onto Sara’s hand with the other, looking out at the expansive views over what seemed to be the whole of the Île-de-France. The views from the lower levels of the Eiffel Tower had been grand, but the view from the top was close to unbelievable.

Sara grinned, happy that Ava was enjoying this so much. They’d met with Gideon, Zari and Charlie at Ladurée for a very big morning tea which rolled into an early lunch. Zari had more or less ordered some of everything they had to offer, and the pastries, cakes and macarons had just kept coming. After leaving the patisserie, Sara and Ava had been happy to walk at a very gentle pace, stopping to window shop along the way, down to the Eiffel Tower.

“Well, until they finished the Chrysler Building in 1930, the Eiffel Tower was the tallest building in the world,” Sara said.

Ava briefly looked away from the view to look at Sara. “You only know that because you could read it on the information poster.”

“Correct,” Sara said. “But it’s still a good fact.”

“Surely the Eiffel Tower is popular enough to have the posters in English too,” Ava said, turning back to the view. Sara leant against the railing, both looking out over the city.

“Though the English fought alongside the French in the Great War, we’ve been enemies for the best part of the last thousand years, so I doubt one alliance is going to see them putting the signs up in English.”

“Do it for us poor Americans then,” Ava said.

Sara laughed. “I’ll tell Ray to add it to the agenda at the Embassy.”

Ava took Sara by the arm and they circumnavigated the viewing platform, Sara pointing out various landmarks as they went. They returned to the vantage point facing west, looking along the Seine, and with Sacre Coeur in the distance, seemingly floating above the rest of the city.

“I know we just ate every pastry available, but I’m assuming you have plans for dinner?” Ava asked.

“Just a little hundred-year-old place called Pharamond. It’s not too far from the hotel. Then maybe we could go to a bar, have a drink or two, and return to the hotel at a very reasonable hour, as we have a very busy schedule again tomorrow.”

“Is it all right that it’s only mid-afternoon and I’m already worn out?” Ava laughed.

“I think I’m still tired from the wedding,” Sara confessed.

“That’s because you danced for hours without a break.”

“It was worth it,” Sara said.

Ava leant into Sara. “I feel like when we leave, I’m going to have hardly scratched the surface of all there is to do here,” Ava said.

“We could always send a telegram to Berlin, telling them not to expect us back until next Monday. Gideon wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t work for Gideon,” Ava said, “And I can’t just run away from my job.”

“It wouldn’t be running away. It would just be not returning.”

Ava pulled a face. “We agreed yesterday that we’d be coming back here another time. We could come for ten days in the summer, perhaps.”

“Oh, no, we’d have to go to Brittany or Bordeaux. It’s much too hot and sticky in Paris in the summer to stay for more than a couple of days,” Sara said.

“I’m from Fresno, I doubt it’s that hot.”

“Well I’m from Star City, and I assure you it is,” Sara asserted and smiled. Ava chuckled and shook her head.

“Did that girl from Fresno ever think she’d be standing on top of the Eiffel Tower?” Sara asked.

“I don’t think so,” Ava said. “Did that girl from Star City?”

“Yes,” Sara said. “I always wanted to see the world. I grew up with parent’s stories of growing up in England, visiting Stone Henge and Bath and Brighton, then when my dad returned from the Great War he had all these stories of his time in France, and I always wanted to see it for myself. Laurel and I would lie on the floor in the living room, pouring over maps in the atlas.”

“I always knew I’d never stay in Fresno,” Ava said, “But this - this is pretty great.”

“It is,” Sara said. “And, about the summer, I - Ava, with everything that’s going on in Germany, I - I don’t know what’s going to happen. I want to make plans with you, more than anything, but - ”

Ava nodded. “Let’s not talk about that right now,” she said, enjoying the Nazi-free city too much to think about what was going on back in Berlin.

Sara nodded.

“Thank-you for inviting me,” Ava said, leaning against the railing with Sara to her side, shoulder-to-shoulder, their fingers entwined.

“We’re still here for nearly two more days,” Sara said, rubbing the back of Ava’s hand with her thumb. “Plenty of time to hate the city.”

Ava laughed. “I don’t know if it’s the city that I - I mean, Paris is great, but I think it’s great because I’m with you.”

“Ava Sharpe! Are you getting soft on me?” Sara grinned, gently bumping her shoulder against Ava’s.

Ava blushed and turned and gave Sara a quick peck on the cheek, surprising them both.

…

Wednesday, 15th March, 1939

On the train back to Berlin, Sara and Ava found that they had a compartment to themselves. They sat opposite each other, each gazing out the window, happy to watch the countryside go by in a comfortable silence. Yesterday they’d visited the Louvre in the morning, had a picnic lunch on the Champ de Mars with Ray and Nora, and then in the evening Sara had surprised Ava with tickets to the ballet at the Palais Garnier. Ava smiled to herself at the memory of Sara twirling her in the hallway when they’d come out of their box at interval before the rest of the audience poured out.

This morning after breakfast at the hotel, they’d gone for a leisurely walk through le Marais and down to the Bastille, before having an early lunch at Cafe de Musees at the recommendation of Ray and Nora.

“Happy thoughts?” Sara asked, breaking Ava’s reverie.

“This has been the most amazing few days,” Ava smiled.

“I can’t believe you’ve been living in Europe for six years and never been to Paris until now!” Sara teased.

Ava shrugged. “Well, I’m glad it was with you. I don’t know if the City of Love would have rubbed off on me quite so strongly otherwise.”

“Ava Sharpe,” Sara grinned, reaching forward and taking Ava’s hands.

Ava blushed, realising what she’d just said.

“Well, the City of Love does take on a rather different atmosphere when you’re actually accompanied by someone special,” Sara said, kissing the back of Ava’s hand.

Ava sat up suddenly, looking around. Throughout their time in Paris they had let their guard down completely, constantly holding hands, walking arm in arm, dancing together, and even kissing twice out in public. And other than the occasional dirty look, they had had no need to be afraid.

“It’s all right,” Sara said, sensing Ava’s concern. “We won’t be crossing the border for another half hour or so.”

Ava exhaled, realising she’d been holding her breath. “It’s just I - I really liked this. A lot. An awful lot. Holding your hand, dancing…” Ava had never been much of one for intimacy, but these last few days with Sara had been different.

“Well, we’re not at the border yet,” Sara said, standing up and holding onto the baggage rack as the train swayed. She held out her hand, which Ava took and Sara pulled her to her feet. Though there was minimal room between the seats, they managed to stand facing one another. Ava pulled Sara into position, her hand feeling so natural on Sara’s hip.

“Why do you get to lead?” Sara asked, as they swayed to and fro with the motion of the train.

“I’m taller,” Ava said.

“You’re not that much taller.”

“About three inches taller.”

Sara chuckled, and rested her head against Ava’s shoulder. “I like that fancy French perfume on you, Miss Sharpe,” Sara said, nuzzling into Ava’s neck.

“That was a much too expensive gift,” Ava admonished, though the perfume was beautiful. She’d seen adverts for it, but never thought she’d have a bottle of Chanel No. 5 of her own.

“Make sure you wear it back in Berlin. If you run out, I’ll buy you another bottle.”

“I’ll wear it for you,” Ava said softly.

The train jolted, causing Sara and Ava to stumble. Sara laughed as Ava fell backwards onto the seat, almost pulling Sara on top of her. Sara sat down on Ava’s lap, her legs straddling either side, on knee resting on the seat, the other foot secured on the ground. “Twenty minutes, Miss Sharpe,” she said, leaning in and kissing Ava passionately on the lips.

Ava’s hands slid up Sara’s back inside her blouse, holding her tightly. Sara pulled away after a minute, readjusting her skirt which had ridden up.

“I really think I need to get fluent in French,” Ava said.

Sara leant in a gently nipped at Ava’s bottom lip. “I’m a very good tutor,” Sara said, kissing her.

“I don’t doubt it,” Ava said, “But you’re a much better distraction.”

Sara chuckled.

“Promise me this doesn’t come to a halt when we cross the border,” Ava said, looking into Sara’s stunning blue eyes. “I know it’s not even remotely legal, but - ”

“I want this too,” Sara said, pushing a loose strand of Ava’s hair off her face. “We will find a way. I want this - us - too much not to try. I promise.”


	11. Chapter 11

Thursday, 25th May, 1939

Sara lurked in the foyer of the US Embassy, waiting for Ava to come downstairs so they could go for their lunchtime walk in the Tiergarten. Sara was slightly early knowing that Ava was always punctual, but Sara was still impatient.

“We’re leaving,” Mick said, standing across the foyer, his arms folded.

“Pardon?” Sara asked, daydreaming about unbuttoning Ava’s blouse. If it wasn’t for Sunday lunches at the Heywood’s, they’d never get to so much as hold hands, let alone anything else. Walks in the park most lunchtimes was as close as they got to intimacy.

“Next week,” Mick said. “The girls will miss the last few weeks of school but who cares. We’re going direct to Brussels, then take a couple of weeks to get down to Cherbourg. Let the girls see some of France. Visit Paris.”

“They’ll like Paris,” Sara said. “Will you see the Palmers?”

Mick nodded. “Already sent a letter. Haircut has promised to take care of the girls for the day, something about a child-friendly tour of the Louvre, so Alice and I can have the day to ourselves.”

“Ray will love that.”

“My girls won’t care.”

“They might be won over by him,” Sara smiled.

Mick grunted.

Suddenly, Mick’s words sunk in. “So, you’re leaving. As in leaving-leaving?” Sara asked.

“Alice and I don’t want the girls growing up surrounded by this,” he said, gesturing outside where they could see Swastikas flags flying in Pariser Platz. “Lita’s nearly 14, and Beth is due to start school in September. Jeanie’s been asking me questions I don’t like the answers to, and Helen came home in tears last week because she’s got hazel eyes. That kid has the whitest hair, but they kids at school made her cry because her damned eyes are the wrong colour. What bastards make a six-year-old cry over that? It’s toxic, and I won’t have the girls around it any more.”

Sara nodded. It was one thing for people like her and Ava to stay despite being forced to keep so much of themselves to themselves, but it was harder for those with children to protect them from the rhetoric and propaganda. “Have you given notice?” Sara asked.

Mick gave a nod. “Don’t think I’m the first, and sure I won’t be the last.”

Sara pursed her lips nodded, knowing Mick was right on both counts.

“I’ll be back though,” Mick said. “First came over in ’17 for two years, first in the trenches, then trying to clean it all up, came back in ’27 for another two, that time a bit nicer in Brussels, and then in ’35 for this stint. I don’t think it’ll be long before I’m back again.” He glared at the flag outside. “They’re in for an almighty kicking when it comes. They made my kid cry.”

“I’ll miss you, Mick,” Sara said.

Mick grunted. “Same here, Blondie.”

Sara smiled at the nickname.

“What are you gunna do?” Mick asked.

“Hmm?”

“Stick around or piss off outta here?”

“Stick around for a while yet,” Sara said. If the situation got too hot, she was prepared to leave. Whether Ava would be prepared to go with her though was another question Sara was a little afraid to ask. “Well, a short while anyway. With the locals officially teaming up with Mussolini and Co this week, they’re asking for trouble, Mick. More than that, they want it.”

“What about the States?”

“What about them?” Sara asked.

“They might not go in,” Mick said. “They won’t go in over some mess over here. Not until they can see how it’s going to end.”

Sara smirked, knowing Mick was an invaluable source of gossip. “And you’ve overheard that?” she asked. There wasn’t much Mick didn’t overhear. No one suspected the security detail to care much for politics.

“No. Not in so many words, anyway. I’d hate to see you stuck somewhere unsafe, Blondie. Diplomatic immunity only counts for so much.”

“Don’t worry Mick, I’m not getting caught out again.”

“Good,” Mick grunted. “And Blondie, make sure you take her with you,” he said, nodding towards Ava who was descending the stairs.

“I mean to,” Sara replied.

…

Friday, 2nd June, 1939

“Do you keep to any schedule, or do you just barge in and out of people’s offices all day?” Ava asked, putting down her pen as Sara let herself into Ava’s office without bothering to knock. She knew she should be annoyed by Sara’s intrusions, but found it impossible to be.

“Depends who’s asking,” Sara smirked, closing the door behind herself. “If it’s Colonel Hunter, the former, pretty much anyone else, the latter.”

“Hunter would know you’re lying.”

“Of course. Doesn’t stop me from doing it,” Sara grinned mischievously.

Ava smiled and shook her head. “To what do I owe you the pleasure, Miss Lance? I know it’s Friday, but even you can’t be seriously leaving the office at a quarter to three?”

“I’m heading back around the corner,” Sara said. “I needed to see you first.”

“It couldn’t wait until drinks?” Ava asked.

“That’s what it’s about,” Sara said. “Change of location, same place as last week.”

“Why?” Ava asked. There were three bars they liked to rotate between. All three were in the vicinity of the embassies, but each had their own atmosphere and slightly different food offerings, and the group couldn’t come to a unanimous decision on one favourite watering hole, so they rotated. Changing up the order was unheard of.

“We have good reason to believe it’s being watched,” Sara said, keeping her voice low.

“What - really? Where we were due to go tonight?”

Sara nodded.

“As in… it’s being watched by the Nazis?”

“The Gestapo,” Sara said.

“Why?” Ava asked.

Sara pursed her lips before answering. “Apparently there was a tip off about the bar serving Jews, homosexuals and others engaging in anti-social behaviours.”

“But - we haven’t been there for weeks! And we never - ”

“I don’t mean us, Ava, geez,” Sara said. “I don’t know who exactly. I don’t even know if that’s correct or just a cover, but that’s the intel we have. And if the Gestapo are watching the place, then I don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

Ava nodded slowly. “So, no one is onto us?”

“No one is onto us,” Sara said, wishing she could sit on Ava’s lap and drape her arms around Ava’s neck, there foreheads touching. She wanted to comfort Ava, whisper sweet nothings to her, hold her in her arms. “So, same bar as last week.”

“Do you want me to tell Nate?” Ava asked.

“I’ve already seen him,” Sara said.

“Is Amaya coming?”

“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask,” Sara said.

Ava sighed. Amaya had missed the past few Friday night drinks, as she no longer felt safe to leave their flat without Nate, even to meet them for drinks, catching up with them at Sunday lunch instead. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later, then,” Ava said. “Don’t want to keep Gideon waiting.”

“Who said I was going to see Gideon?” Sara smirked.

Ava rolled her eyes and chuckled, wishing she could embrace Sara. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“And I’ll tell Gideon you say hi,” Sara laughed as she let herself out.

…

Friday, 30th June, 1939

“Excellent, Ava, you’re here,” Nate said, closing the door to her office behind himself. He was beaming from ear-to-ear.

“Everything all right?” Ava asked, looking up from her paperwork. Nate looked like a child who’d just been told it was a snow day.

“I got the job at Cambridge!” he just about yelled, unable to contain his excitement. “I wanted to tell you before I tell others at Friday night drinks tonight. I officially start in September, but I just handed in my resignation. I received the letter last night. I cannot wait to get back to lecturing and research. I know that probably sounds boring, but it’s what I love and I a so excited.”

“Nate, that’s wonderful news,” Ava said, standing up and giving Nate a hug. He momentarily lifted her off her feet. “I’m really happy for you.”

“I’m happy for me too,” Nate said. “My father is going to be furious, but hey, it’s my life, and I’m a big boy and I never wanted to be in the foreign service to begin with. Plus Amaya is ecstatic. She’s been feeling like a prisoner in our own home pretty much since we returned from Ray’s wedding.”

“Poor Amaya. She’ll like going to England. Teaching at Cambridge is something to be very proud of, whatever your family says,” Ava said, patting Nate on the arm. “How did you get the job?”

“It was advertised, and I did apply through all the normal channels, but I have a feeling that Behrad may have thrown a little money in the college’s direction, it being his alma mater and all that, which may have pushed things in my favour just a little bit.”

Ava laughed. “Well, what are friends for?”

“Even better when they can land you your dream job,” Nate grinned. “It’ll be so great have Behrad and Zari around, Amaya and I really miss those guys. I’ll miss you though. And Sara and Gideon.”

Ava nodded. “When do you finish up here?” she asked, hoping his departure wasn’t going to be as immediate as Gary’s was.

“Two weeks. We’ll travel for a few weeks, and want to spend at least a fortnight with Ray and Nora, plus give ourselves some time to settle in at Cambridge before semester starts.”

“Well, I’m really happy for you, Nate.”

“Thanks, Ava. I think it’ll be a bit calmer over there too. More stable. Fewer shouty dictators.”

Ava chuckled.

“I’m glad I’ve been here though,” Nate said. “Meeting all you guys, finding and marrying my beautiful wife, touring around Europe. It’s certainly had it’s moments. Don’t tell my father that, though.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Ava said.

“You’re the best, Miss Sharpe,” Nate said, pulling Ava into another hug. “You’ll have to keep a close eye on our Captain Lance once I go.”

“I’m sure Miss Lance is very capable of taking care of herself,” Ava replied.

“That’s what she wants you to think,” Nate winked. “I’ll see you later on, I don’t think those forms are going to process themselves,” he said, nodding to the visa forms on Ava’s desk.

“See you this evening,” Ava said, taking her seat after Nate left, closing the door behind himself. Ava absentmindedly worked through the forms, her mind wandering. Gary was gone, Mick was gone, Nate and Amaya were going. At this rate by the end of the summer, all her friends would be gone. Ava swallowed. She’d been alone for years, and just as she’d found a community and a group of friends, people she really liked and cared about, they were slowly breaking apart and leaving.

Ava put her pen down and interlaced her fingers to stop her from picking at her nails. Her friends didn’t want to be caught here if war was declared. When war was declared. But would the US engage? It didn’t seem likely. Ava had spent her whole adult life getting to this position, working through the bureaucracy designed to keep her as low down the pecking order as possible. Was she willing to risk it? Hope to be transferred? German was her only language other than English, and hoping for a posting in the UK or Ireland was really too much to wish for. She didn’t want to go back to the US, there was nothing and no one for her there. So where did that leave her? Sara was still here. Gideon was still here. She wasn’t alone. Not yet. Besides, there was work to do.

…

Sunday, 2nd July, 1939

“It probably sounds ridiculous, but even their uniforms make me uncomfortable,” Amaya said, sitting at their kitchen table with Nate and Gideon, watching Sara and Ava dance to the record of swing music playing in the sitting room.

“Wearing skulls on one’s uniform is rarely a sign that one is here to help or has particularly good intentions,” Gideon said dryly, sipping her wine.

“I’m going to miss you all, though,” Amaya said. “And I wish I was going to miss this city, but I think the Berlin I used to love has been gone for some time.”

“Agreed,” said Nate. “I can’t wait to see Behrad and Zari, and Ray and Nora when we stop by Paris, and I hate leaving you ladies, but I can’t say I’m entirely sad to be leaving the country. It just - it feels wrong.”

“I understand completely,” Gideon said.

“Will you be leaving?” Nate asked.

“I doubt I’ll see out the summer,” Gideon said.

“Does Sara know?” Nate asked, looking at Sara and Ava laughing as they danced. One last Sunday lunch, one last dance. Though Nate and Amaya would still be in Berlin next week, they’d be all packed up and most of their goods would be sent off to England. If Nate was honest, he was counting the hours before he and Amaya boarded that train and left Germany for good. But he was also increasingly apprehensive about Gideon, Sara and Ava staying on.

“No,” Gideon said. “But I doubt she’d be surprised, and I have reason to suspect that leaving has crossed the Captain’s mind.”

“She won’t get caught out again,” Nate said.

“No,” Gideon said.

“They have to be careful,” Amaya said, watching as Sara twirled and dipped Ava.

“They know,” Gideon said.

“Do they?” Nate asked.

“They bloody better,” Gideon replied, swirling her wine.

Sara laughed as she pulled Ava back to an upright position.

“I think they’re talking about us,” Ava said, giving a slight nod in the direction of Gideon and the Heywoods.

“My expert dancing is definitely worth talking about,” Sara smirked.

“I don’t think it’s that.”

“I don’t care what it is,” Sara said, swaying along to the music, never letting go of Ava. Though neither of them had said it, they both knew the truth: until they left Germany, today would be the last time they would be able to dance together. It was too risky to visit one another alone, or even with Gideon. Nowhere would they be truely safe.

The song changed and Sara changed her rhythm to match, looking into Ava’s blue-grey eyes, trying to remember every touch, every movement.

“What are you thinking about?” Ava asked.

“You,” Sara smiled.

“You are very smooth, Miss Lance,” Ava grinned, dipping Sara.

“Don’t you let me go, Ava Sharpe!” Sara laughed as Ava pulled her back upright.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Ava said, giving Sara a quick peck on the lips before continuing their dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more information on sex, gender, etc in the Third Reich, I highly recommend The History Of Sex podcast which taught me a lot. Lesbian acts were classified under “anti-social behaviour”, not homosexuality. 


	12. Chapter 12

Wednesday, 22nd August, 1939

“With weather like this, one could be excused for thinking we were stationed in Nice,” Sara grinned, greeting Gideon out the front of their usual mid-week lunch-time restaurant.

Gideon gave Sara a kiss on the cheek. “Minus the Mediterranean views, foods and attitudes, of course,” she said, as they took a seat at their usual table. “Is Miss Sharpe not joining us, Captain?”

“Swamped with paperwork, I’m afraid,” Sara said, adjusting her sunglasses. “Ava, however, is someone who definitely needs a vacation on the Riviera.”

Gideon nodded and signalled to the waiter that they’d be having their usual orders. “Rather busy down there this time of year though. More Britons there than in Brighton.”

Sara chuckled. “Not quite, but it would be fun to through Ava into the mix.”

“You really like her,” Gideon stated.

Sara nodded.

“I’m glad,” Gideon said. “You deserve someone, Captain. And I know you don’t need to hear it from me, but you do need to be careful. Now more than ever."

“I know, I know,” Sara said, feeling dreamy as the sun beat down. It wasn’t often that Berlin was this hot, and she was wanting to enjoy it. “I really would like to take her on that vacation, though. We spoke about going to Bordeaux or Brittany when we were in Paris. Somewhere by the sea, lots of good, fresh seafood and French wine. I wouldn’t mind a drip in the sea right now,” Sara said, feeling sticky and hot in a just light linen dress and open-toed sandals.

“We are miles from the sea.”

“It’s a shame we can’t go for a dip in a fountain,” Sara teased, the waiting pouring them each a glass of water.

Gideon laughed. “I can actually imagine you doing that.”

“And then you can deal with the diplomatic issues once I get arrested.”

Gideon’s smile disappeared.

“Something’s wrong,” Sara said, leaning forward ever so slightly. “That - I was joking, Gideon. I’m not really going to do anything to get myself arrested.

“I know, it’s just - Captain…” Gideon began and faltered.

“What’s happened?” Sara asked, keeping her voice low.

“Talks between the British, French and Soviets broke down last night,” Gideon said quietly, unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap.

“So, what happens now?” Sara asked, doing the same. The heat suddenly felt suffocating. The waiter returned with their beers.

Gideon took a sip. “I don’t know. I really don’t, Captain. There’s a chance the Soviets will partner with this lot,” she said, nodding towards one of the Swastika flags hanging from a balcony across the square.

“And pigs might fly,” Sara scoffed, sipping her beer.

Gideon shook her head. “More of ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ type situation. They’ll carve up the eastern states between them, then this lot will move on the Rhineland.”

“How long?” Sara asked, her stomach tightening. The bright, sunny summer’s afternoon suddenly felt all wrong.

Gideon sighed. “A few weeks. Maybe a month. I think they’ll want to make any move on the eastern states in the next week weeks. They’ll want it over before winter.”

“What do we do?” Sara asked.

“I’m so sorry, Captain,” Gideon said, smiling to the waiter as he placed their meals on the table. “But this isn’t going to hold.”

“You’re leaving,” Sara said. It was a statement, rather than a question.

“On the sleeper to Paris tonight. I’ve sent a telegram to the Palmers. I’ll stay with them for a couple of days, then head home. I talked to the Ambassador and Colonel Hunter this morning. If we go to war, the Embassy will be closed. And very likely raided. Sara, if war is to be declared you must leave.”

“What will the Americans do?” Sara asked, thinking about Ava while poking at her meal.

Gideon shrugged, enjoying her lunch as though there conversation was the usual inter-governmental office gossip. “Stick to their current policy of ‘not our problem’, I assume.”

“What should I do?” Sara asked.

“You don’t need me to tell you that, Captain,” Gideon smiled, washing down a mouthful of food with beer. If this was to be her last meal in Berlin, she was jolly well going to enjoy it. “If it comes down to everyone getting out, and you stay, I can’t help you. My house in London has plenty of space. You’ve previously made claim of one of the bedrooms. It’s all yours once more if you want it, Captain.”

Sara smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I won’t get caught out again.”

“I know.”

“What about Ava?” Sara asked.

“It’s best you both leave,” Gideon said. “If they find out what you are, even rumours of it, deportation and disgrace will be the best possible outcome. Now, come on, Captain. It’s my last lunch here, it’s properly warm and sunny, which my damp little island famously is not, they don’t make beer or pork like this, and I want to know every last piece of gossip you have. I’m going to need something to sustain me before I can get my networks established back in London.”

…

After lunch Sara returned to her flat, feeling heartbroken. She’d given Gideon a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug farewell, fearing that anymore would look too intimate and that someone might see and report them. Sara removed her shoes and gulped down two glasses of water while trying to formulate a plan. Gideon was right. She was always right. Sara had known this was coming, but it seemed that now the situation had escalated to the point of no return. Diplomacy had failed, war was inevitable, and she had to get out.

Sara went into her bedroom and pulled out her larger suitcase and two hat boxes. She opened her draws and began sorting the clothes into piles; needed now, not needed now, and donate, as well as putting aside an outfit for travelling, including hat, coat and shoes. Most of the clothes in the ‘not needed now’ pile was her winter clothes, and was fortunate that none of the piles were substantial; her semi-nomadic lifestyle making sure of that. Sara took the hats out of the boxes along with all the paper to protect them, and replaced the paper with small pieces of winter clothing including flannels, cardigans, long-sleeve blouses, gloves, and woollen tights. She managed to fit a pair of shoes into each box as well as a couple of trinkets and small useful items, then placed them by the bedroom door.

Sara went back into the kitchen and got another drink. She was hot, and could feel her heart pounding. Was what she was doing too suspicious? Would anyone report her? Would anyone care? She found a couple of clean potato bags and packed the clothing she would donate into them before putting her shoes back on, finding her hat and sunglasses, and heading down to the Salvation Army centre to drop off the clothes.

The woman at the Salvation Army centre didn’t ask any questions, and were happy to receive the donation. Sara excused herself as quickly as possible, not really wanting to hear the woman’s stories about how these items would benefit the poor women of Berlin. On the way back to her flat, Sara stopped by the store for brown paper, tape, and string.

“Sending some parcels,” said the man behind the counter, trying to make conversation, but his attempt made Sara nervous. She tried to reason with herself, tell herself that she was overreacting, but she had the uneasy feeling that she wasn’t.

“Yes. Lots to do,” she said, forcing a smile as she paid and collected the items.

On arriving back at her flat, Sara forced herself to sit down and drink. Getting sick or exhausted from the heat wasn’t going to help. She set about wrapping up the hat boxes in the brown paper, and found herself wishing she had someone there to help. Specifically Ava. Sara sighed, and leant back against the wall. Her dress was sticking to her body, her hair was sticking to her neck and face, she was hot and tired and almost completely alone. She couldn’t leave Ava, but she most certainly could not stay.

Sara lined the bottom of the larger suitcase with her favourite books, and managed to fit in two evenings gowns, two day-dresses, a jumper, a jacket, a coat, two pairs of shoes, and a couple of other small items before sitting on the lid of the suitcase to force it closed. She wrapped the case up and placed it beside the other parcels.

After another drink of water, Sara went around her flat and put all of her remaining personal items into her bedroom, making mental notes of how she’d pack it all into the smaller suitcase. She rented the flat fully-furnished, so all the furniture, glassware, crockery, cutlery, napery, sheet and towels belonged there. Her passports were her most important possessions, followed by her photographs, and the laurel-wreath tiara. She’d have three changes of clothes with her, plus a change of shoes, and a book. Nothing could look too suspicious. Sara looked at the parcels by the door and chuckled. They looked extremely suspicious, and she couldn’t carry them all at once.

Back on went the shoes, hat and sunglasses, and Sara took the two hat boxes to the post office around the corner, and arranged to have them sent to Gideon’s London address. The postman smiled as Sara filled out the postal and customs paperwork. She often sent and received parcels to and from London, so this was nothing unusual. Sara was grateful for the routine, and decided on waiting a day or two before sending the suitcase. Would anyone care if she left? How long had Gideon really been planning to go? Had she sent items ahead? Why couldn’t she have told Sara what she was doing? Sara couldn’t imagine Gideon having left much behind, and wished she’d had more time to talk to her, or could talk to her now.

Sara grabbed a pretzel from the bakery on the way back to her flat to have for dinner. She didn’t feel like eating, but knew she needed to have something. Upon returning home, she locked the door and once again removed her shoes. She now felt like a stranger in her own home. Nowhere in Berlin was safe. Part of her wanted to run and hide out at the Embassy, but Gideon was right, when war was inevitably declared, not even the Embassy would be safe. Sara fought to control her breathing. She would speak to Ava. She would get train ticket and get the hell out. But tonight, she would have a cool bath and try to get some rest, and pray the status-quo would hold for another day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok everyone, hang onto your hats. This is where things get bumpy for our girls.  
> Thank-you so much for all the comments and kudos. They’re currency around here :)

Thursday, 23rd August, 1939

Sara and Ava walked through the Tiergarten at lunchtime, walking on the grass under the large shady trees to avoid other people as much as possible, but being a pleasant summer afternoon, the park was busy wherever they went.

“Is everything all right?” Ava asked. “You’ve been quiet.”

Sara exhaled. “I’m planning to leave Berlin,” she said quietly.

“You - what, really? Like tonight?” Ava asked, sudden panic rising inside her.

“No, not tonight,” Sara said, forcing a smile. “But probably in the next week or so. Britain’s going to be at war with Germany within a month, I guarantee it. The last throws of diplomacy have failed. Herr Hitler just has to push the first domino, and they’ll all go toppling down.”

“What will America do?” Ava asked despite already knowing the answer.

Sara shrugged. “Probably nothing. That’s generally been their policy so far. The most radical thing they’ve done was recall Wilson, but without shutting the Embassy all together, it doesn’t count for much.”

“So you’re running back to London,” Ava mumbled bitterly.

“What? Ava, I’m not running back anywhere. I can see all too clearly that the situation is going south extremely fast, and I cannot be caught on the wrong side of the border when war is declared.”

Ava shook her head. “You loyalty has always been with the British.”

“It has always been with Gideon and now you as well. That hasn’t changed, and it’s not going to.”

“That’s not how this works, Sara. What has Gideon got to say about you leaving?”

“She told me to. She left last night,” Sara said, keeping her voice calm, though she could feel emotion building within her. She looked around the park she’d walked through so many times before, feeling like a stranger. “And she - she called me Sara.”

“That is your name,” Ava said.

“She’s only called me that one other time, Aves. When I was in hospital and I - I was so sick. I remember waking up and Gideon was there, holding my hand. I don’t remember exactly what she said, but I do remember her using my name,” Sara said. “She sounded so tired, and so afraid.”

“I can’t believe she left without saying goodbye to me,” Ava said.

“Ava, she didn’t mean anything by it, she just - ”

“Just what, Sara?” Ava exclaimed.

“Babe, keep your voice down,” Sara said softly. “I received a telegram this morning saying she was safely Paris with the Palmers. She’ll be back in London by Monday. I - we had lunch yesterday. I knew things we bad, but… Gideon’s gone back to get in position for war.”

Ava bit her lip. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sara or admit how she was really feeling, so they just kept walking. “Why does no one ever say goodbye?” she said, feeling hurt.

“Nate and Amaya did. And Mick, and - ”

“Sara, you know what I’m saying!” Ava snapped. “When you ran away last year, if I hadn’t of seen you, you would have just vanished like Zari and Behrad.”

“It’s not safe here anymore, Ava. If the authorities get wind that we’re leaving and without what they’d consider ‘good reason’…”

Ava shook her head. “Go home then.”

Sara stopped. “If they capture me, they will execute me, Ava,” she breathed.

Ava stopped and turned back to Sara. “Then why are you still here?”

Sara swallowed. “Because you are. I don’t want to leave without you. Please, Ava. Come to London with me.”

“If there’s going to be war, there’ll be war in Britain too. If I’m going anywhere, I might as well go back to the States.”

“Ava…”

“London is not my home, Sara. I’ve never been to England. It’s not my country, and it never will be. I have no connection to it.”

“You have me,” Sara breathed.

“What we have is illegal,” Ava said, her eyes burning with tears. “It can’t be real.”

“It’s as real as we want it to be,” Sara said, standing as close to Ava as she dared. “And it is the most real thing I have. You’re right, I can’t promise that we will be safe, but we can’t fight from here anymore. It’s done. We’re done. A strategic retreat from Berlin is the only option. Regroup and sort ourselves out. Dammit, Ava, we could dance together without the fear of being taken away to a fucking camp.”

Ava swallowed. “I don’t work for your King. I don’t belong there.”

Sara closed her eyes, fighting back tears. “Well we sure as hell don’t belong in Berlin. Please, Ava. Think about it.”

Ava looked at Sara. “I’m sorry, Miss Lance. I’m not leaving.”

“Ava…”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be returning to the Embassy. I have a job to do.”

Sara stood still, watching as Ava turned and walked back towards Pariser Platz, feeling utterly alone.

…

Friday, 1st September, 1939.

Sara walked up the stairs in the US Embassy, fingers running across the envelope in her pocket. At midnight that night, German tanks had rolled into Poland. Palais Strousberg was up in arms, and Colonel Hunter had given Sara a tap on the shoulder. She could wait no longer.

“Ava?” Sara asked, knocking on Ava’s door and opening it gently. She’d bumped into Ava a couple of times since the day in the park, but Ava had done little more than acknowledge Sara’s existence, despite Sara’s attempts to talk to her.

Ava sat at her desk, surrounded by paperwork.

“It doesn’t stop, does it?” Sara asked looking at the paperwork, closing the door behind her.

“What do you want, Miss Lance? Need me to commit a bit more treason for you? Some casual espionage?”

“You have never been asked to do anything but your job, Ava. Every paper you have fraudulently approved has saved lives. Those people are safe in America. By my count, what you’ve done for us has saved hundreds, if not a thousand lives.”

Ava shook her head. “Why are you here now? Another list?” she asked as Sara placed the unmarked envelope onto Ava’s desk.

“I’ve booked a ticket on the 3:10 tomorrow afternoon to Hamburg, and from there I’ll catch the sleeper to Paris. You heard what happened last night?”

“I pay attention to my job, not to geopolitical gossip.”

Sara sighed. This wasn’t how she’d wanted this discussion to go. “Well, then. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to say it again anyway: Ava, please come to London. Within days there will be war. And because it might be my last chance to say it, and I think we both need to hear it out loud: I love you, Ava Sharpe.”

Ava swallowed hard and met Sara’s eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you are smart and stubborn and beautiful and you care so much. And because I’d never forgive myself if you didn’t know that’s how I felt.”

Ava shook her head sadly. “Sara, I can’t.”

Sara nodded and tried to smile despite wanting to cry. “Well, it doesn’t change how I feel. I - see you later, Ava. Stay safe. Know you have people who love you and want you, and a home where you will belong.”

Ava nodded, refusing to let herself cry in front of Sara. She wanted to jump up and wrap her arms around her, telling her through her tears that of course she’d come and of course she loved Sara too. “Farewell, Miss Lance.”

Sara let herself out of Ava’s office. Ava sighed, rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes, forcing emotion down.

…

Saturday, 2nd September, 1939

With piles of paperwork to get through as a result of the queue at the visa desk all week as long as she’d ever seen it, Ava went into the office on Saturday morning. She thought it would be quieter, but there were diplomats and attachés and various other embassy officials running about the place like mad. Ava found a newspaper and realised why. Britain and France had given Germany an ultimatum: pull all forces out of Poland or they’d declare war. Sara had been right.

Ava went to her office and closed the door. She put down her bag, took off her hat and got settled in her chair, before pulling out her stamps and pen. She worked for a couple of hours and moved onto another pile of papers, but when picking it up, an envelope fell to the ground.

“I won’t risk my job for you,” Ava grumbled, grabbing the envelope and opening it all the same. Inside were two train tickets, one for the 3:10pm to Hamburg, and then for the sleeper to Paris. Ava’s stomach dropped.

In a panic, Ava pocketed the tickets, grabbed her hat and bag, shoved the bronze cast miniature Eiffel Tower she had bought in Paris which sat on her desk into her bag and raced out of the embassy. She caught a cab back home and frantically packed a suitcase, changing into better shoes and her best coat, even though the weather was mild. It was coming up one o’clock, and Ava had a gut feeling that time was against her. She waited impatiently for the bus, as a cab was hard to find.

It was almost two o’clock when Ava arrived at Lehrter Bahnhof to a scene of utter chaos. People were crowded around the entrances, unable to get onto the concourse, let alone near the platforms. There were soldiers everywhere. Ava checked her watch. She had time. There was still time. Someone bumped into her and apologised. Ava nodded and gripped her suitcase tightly, though if she lost it, is wouldn’t be the end of the world. Inside her coat was her passport, the tickets, and money, with more emergency money tucked into her bra.

It was taking too long, Ava thought as she finally made her way inside the station, and she tried to manoeuvre herself into the queue for immigration checks. She could hardly believe that authorities were checking papers here in Berlin, miles from any border, but people were fleeing the capital en masse. Ava slowly edged her way forward, her heart pounding in her chest, her eye eternally on the clock.

…

Sara boarded the train and found her compartment, placing her suitcase on the overhead rack, and taking off her hat and coat, but keeping her passports and tickets on her person. She nodded politely to the elderly couple holding hands who would be her companions for the next few hours. Sara sat down and looked out the window at the chaos on the station. She had arrived mid-morning, desperate to leave the city despite the smell and the crowds at the station, and was glad she’d come early. Her heart felt as though it was trying to leapt out of her chest, and Sara suppressed the panic, eyes eternally scanning the crowd. All day Sara had wondered if she should have gone to Ava’s flat or to the US Embassy and dragged her out, but she couldn’t do that. Ava was a grown woman. She made her own choices. Sara choked back a sob, when suddenly she was convinced she saw a familiar figure in the crowd.

Sara jumped up to get a better look, craning her neck to try and see if it really was Ava.

“Shit,” Sara muttered, her heart jumping. She slid past her compartment companions and back into the hallway, zig-zagging her way past passengers still boarding the train to the door. Sara held onto the bar beside the door and leant out, trying to see Ava. There were so many soldiers and Nazi officials amongst the crowds. Ava was tall, and easy to spot. She was wearing a grey hat. Sara tried to make eye contact, but Ava wasn’t looking in the right direction.

The platform guard blew his whistle and steam hissed from the train which jolted forward. Sara held onto the bar with white knuckles.

“Bitte setzen sie sich, Frauline,” the platform guard said, walking past and slamming the door shut.

Sara pulled the window down, leaning out. “Aber meine freundin ist da!” she shouted, pointing towards Ava. “Ava! AVA!”

The guard ignored her. Sara’s eye caught the clock. 3:10 and German trains were nothing if not punctual. The train began to move forward, slowly gaining speed as it left the platform.

“AVA!” Sara shouted, but anyone who heard her didn’t care. Sara looked desperately at the crowd, and for half a second her eye met Ava’s before she was once again lost from sight as the train pulled away from the station and Berlin.

…

Ava could do nothing but stand and watch as the train pulled away. She’d been so close, yet so impossibly far. Sara had been there, she’d seen her, but Ava was too far away, too late, too slow to realise that Sara had been right weeks ago when she’d mentioned the need to leave. Ava had been too afraid to do something wrong and too ready to trust the system, and now she was completely alone.

It felt as though it took an age for Ava to push against the crowd to get out of the station, and it was nearly five o’clock before she arrived back at her flat, where she locked and bolted the door. Ava paid rent by the month, due on the 12th, so the flat was still hers. She unpacked and then systematically re-packed her suitcase, fitting almost twice as much in before making dinner out of the small amount of food she had left, too afraid to go out into the streets. Ava ran herself a bath, feeling grimy after spending hours in the train station. Once she sat down and allowed herself a moment to relax her shoulders shuddered and Ava broke into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of Sara’s discussion with the platform guard:
> 
> “Please sit down, miss.”
> 
> “But my (girl)friend is there!”
> 
> In German, the word for romantic girlfriend and platonic-friend-who-is-a-girl are the same (freundin). 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the response to the previous chapter. The idea of Sara and Ava getting separated at the train station was what I started with, but it was a scene without a story (or a specific time period). Then I got the idea of Ava being a paper-pusher at the Embassy, and the rest of the story fell into place almost immediately.

Sunday, 3rd September, 1939

In the morning, Ava dressed, did her hair, and took her suitcase with her as she made her way to Palais Strousberg, stopping to get a Splitterbrotchen for breakfast. Ava did her best not to look at any newspaper headlines; she couldn’t bear to know what was going on and what spin the German press was putting on it. Approaching the British Embassy, Ava noticed smoke coming from the roof, and from the courtyard out the back. She let herself in the front entrance, and was met by a scene of chaos, with the remaining employees running about with boxes and boxes of paperwork. She’d only been inside the Embassy once, for the New Years Ball celebrating the start of ’38, and now the atmosphere could not be more different.

“Take everything from the upper floors to the roof, first and ground floor goes to the courtyard!” Ava heard Colonel Hunter command. He’d be able to help.

“Miss, take this,” an official said, stuffing a box into Ava’s arms.

“Oh, I - actually, I’m not - ”

“To the courtyard! Look lively!” he said before disappearing.

Ava put her suitcase and handbag in a corner, covering them with her coat, though she kept her passport tucked inside her dress. “I need to talk to Colonel Hunter,” she said to the first man she came across.

“Well, the Colonel’s busy, ain’t he? Take those outside and come back for another.”

Ava followed another man carrying two boxes of papers out into the courtyard and placed them where he did. In the courtyard there was man in shirtsleeves was briefly checking what was in each box before selecting which one would be the next to be tipped into the flames, plus another two men with brooms, sweeping any stray sheets back into the fire. Ava recognised Sara’s scribbly handwriting on one of those stray sheets, which quickly smouldered and burnt when swept back into the flames. Ava raced back inside to get another box.

For an hour, Ava helped to carry boxes of papers out to the courtyard. If felt good having something physical to do that required no thoughts, only action. No one questioned her as there was work to be done, some of them likely recognised her, and she was helping, though she kept an eye out for Colonel Hunter.

“Miss Sharpe?”

Ava turned around.

“Anderson, take this,” Colonel Hunter said, taking the box Ava was carrying and shoving it into the arms of a passing man, who continued outside. Hunter pulled Ava aside. “What in God’s name are you doing here?” he hissed.

“White Canary,” Ava said, the words almost getting stuck in her throat. The weather was mild and she was out of breath and in need of a drink from carrying the boxes around.

Hunter’s eyes widened for a brief second before returning to his usual grumpy expression. “Didn’t she get you a ticket? Why the hell are you still here?”

“I missed the train,” Ava said.

The Colonel cursed under his breath. “You can’t be here, Miss Sharpe.”

“But - she said if I said the codename, I’d receive help, that I’d - ”

“Don’t you understand what’s going on here?” Hunter almost shouted. “For Christ’s sake, Miss Sharpe! At midday Berlin time, my Prime Minister will be declaring war on the country in which this embassy is situated. As soon as that happens, out diplomatic immunity is gone. Why do you think we’re burning all the paperwork? As soon as war is declared, the Gestapo will be marching on through that front door, raiding the place for anything useful and taking everyone still here for questioning. Miss Sharpe, you _cannot_ _be here_.”

Ava swallowed, realising just how monumentally she’d messed up. “But America…” Ava exhaled.

“They will not help you, Miss Sharpe. You’ve been working for us for months, you’re in bed with Miss Lance and - ”

“I - I’m not - we…” Ava stammered, blushing.

“It’s a figure of speech, Miss Sharpe,” the Colonel said, taking a deep breath and running his hand through his hair. “But she - they don’t just call her Captain because she leads that strange little ad-hoc team of hers in the field, but because she’d do anything for them, and she would never leave them behind. They know this. Captain Lance would put herself in danger, and has done, a thousand times before letting any of her people get hurt. She protects her own. Fiercely. She waited until I commanded her to leave because I will not see her captured and hurt, and even then she bought you as much time as she could.”

Ava swallowed back tears.

“Get out of Berlin, get out of the country, and for the sake of us all, do not mention that code name again until you’re on the other side of the border. Go to the station now and do not look back. Get a train to anywhere, just go west.”

Ava nodded, afraid she’d vomit if she tried to speak.

“Godspeed, Miss Sharpe.”

“Thank-you, sir,” Ava managed to respond.

“Don’t thank me, thank your Miss Lance. Once you get back to her, you hold onto her and never let her go. There aren’t many like her out in the world, and we’re going to need all the good ones we can get.”

Ava nodded, and hurried back to the foyer where she found her coat and bags right where she’d left them. She collected her things and made her way to Lehrter Bahnhof, keeping a watchful eye on the time, forcing herself to stay calm and not panic. America was not going to war. She was travelling on an American passport. No one knew she’d been collaborating with the British to help get Jews out of Berlin. No one knew that she was completely in love with Sara Lance, not even Sara herself. She would find her way back to Sara, walk if she had to, and she would tell her exactly how she felt. 

…

Sara had never seen Gare du Nord so busy. She swung her satchel over her shoulder and clung tightly to her suitcase as she alighted onto the platform and slowly made her way towards the concourse, having no idea how she was supposed to find Ray and Nora. She was hungry, tired having been unable to sleep properly on the train, and on glimpsing soldiers and a lot more policemen than usual in the station, felt dread rising inside her. At least there were no Swastikas.

“Come with me,” someone said, slipping their hand into Sara’s.

“Nora,” Sara breathed, gripping Nora’s hand as they weaved through the crowds towards the street.

“Ray had to move the car,” Nora said, once they were out of the station. “There’s so much traffic, and it’s hard to get a parking spot. The police keep moving people on. There’s the car. Come on.”

“Nora - ” Sara said, her voice cracking.

“Ava’s not with you?”

Sara shook her head.

Nora sighed and gave Sara’s hand a squeeze as the wove through the traffic towards Ray’s car. “Come on. We’ll figure everything out.”

“We’re going to war, Nora.”

“I know,” Nora said, as she and Sara slid into the backseat, Nora pulling the door shut behind them as Ray reentered the traffic.

“Captain Lance, always good to see you. Today a little more so than usual. No Miss Sharpe?”

Sara shook her head.

“Sara?” Nora asked, reaching across the backseat and placing her hand on Sara’s.

Sara swallowed. “I saw her in the crowds at the station. It was so busy, it makes Gare du Nord and this traffic look like a wet Tuesday in winter compared to the chaos in Berlin,” Sara sniffed and looked out the window, entwining her fingers with Nora’s. “I was already on the train, sitting in the compartment when I saw her. I raced to the door, but there was so much security, and she was down the platform and… I could see her in the crowds and I knew - I knew she’d never make it. People are desperate, so the officials are being so pedantic, checking tickets, checking papers. She was there, but she - she couldn’t get through…”

“You didn’t go to the station together?”

Sara shook her head. “I should have stayed with her. I should have dragged her down there, but neither of us knew it would be that busy. Nora, everything is going to hell over there, and Ava’s stuck there, and…”

“She’s not stuck yet,” Ray said, navigating them away from the traffic that surrounded Gare du Nord. “Unless America declares war too, which seems unlikely. At least today it seems unlikely.”

“Ray’s right,” Nora said. “For all we know, Ava caught the next train to Hamburg, or the one after that, and will be arriving in Paris later today.”

Sara sighed, praying Nora was right. “What are you two going to do?” she asked. She’d been unable to think of anything but Ava during the journey to Paris, and was now looking for any distraction.

“We’re going back to America,” Nora said. “We booked tickets about three weeks ago.”

“On Gideon’s advice,” Ray said.

“But I’m also expecting, and would like to have the child over there. Having Ray’s mother and brother around to help out will be nice.”

It took Sara a moment to process what Nora had said. “You’re having a baby?”

Nora smiled and nodded. “I’m only about nine weeks along, but we’d rather go back now.”

“When do you leave?” Sara asked.

“We leave from Cherbourg Friday week,” Nora said.

Sara nodded.

“Don’t worry, though, Captain,” Ray said, “I’ve spoken to Gideon and my darling wife. Once we’re settled, and the baby’s born, I’ll be back. Gideon hinted at some very exciting aircraft the British are designing, and you know I can’t resist a good plane.”

“And you’re all right with that?” Sara asked Nora.

“If Ray can help save the world, I’m not going to stop him,” she said.

They arrived at Nora and Ray’s apartment, Ray carried Sara’s case inside and placed it in the guest room. Sara was happy to remove her hat and coat, and sat down at the kitchen table to eat a fresh baguette and pale, salty butter, and drink many cups of tea. Ray turned on the wireless.

“Really?” Nora asked.

“Sorry, dear,” Ray said, turning the volume down, “But there’ll be announcements we need to hear. We need to know.”

“Ray’s right,” Sara said, stuffing the last bite of baguette into her mouth. Having had something to eat and drink, and sitting in the relative peace and safety of Ray and Nora’s apartment was making her feel more at ease. They would figure this out. Ava would get out of Germany. She was probably only a few hours behind Sara. They’d be reunited here or in London. Everything would work out. It had to.

At 12:15 they listened to Chamberlain’s speech, followed by the King.

“Isn’t Dalidier going to say something?” Nora asked.

“Oh, shit,” Sara sighed, leaning back in her chair. “They will have screwed the times up. Great way to start a war, don’t even have your declarations at the same time.”

“What happens now?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know,” Sara said. “I have to get back to London. I need to be with Gideon. Charlie and the Tarazis are there too. I need to go to the station and buy a ticket to Calais. I’ve got to go as soon as possible. They might mine the Channel or - I have to get a ticket,” Sara said, standing up as pants rose within her.

“Sara - ”

“I need to be over there. I should have left with Gideon. I - ”

“Sara! We bought you a ticket yesterday,” Nora said, taking Sara’s hand.

“We knew you wouldn’t want to linger,” Ray smiled. “You’re off to Calais on the 10:55 tomorrow morning. It was the earliest we could get.”

Sara sunk back into her chair. “You guys are the greatest, you know that, right?”

Nora smiled. “Lets go for a walk and get some lunch. It’s a lovely day and it’s not the end of the world quite yet.”


	15. Chapter 15

Monday, 4th September, 1939

It was early in the morning when the train pulled into Cologne. The morning air was cool, but inside the station was busy and stuffy, with Swastikas hanging from the sides, and a conspicuous amount of soldiers marching around. The youths selling newspapers shouted the headlines about the outbreak of war. It was too noisy and too busy and close to overwhelming, but Ava had to wait around. The ticket office was still closed, so Ava joined the growing queue. She was hungry and hadn’t been able to sleep on the train from Berlin, but was desperate to keep moving. She needed to get out more than she needed to eat.

The queue was less orderly than Ava would have liked and it seemed to take forever before the ticket offices were finally opened. Ava looked around her. Everyone looked exhausted and no one looked happy. She assumed a lot of the people trying to get out would likely be foreigners like her; primarily French, Dutch, and Belgium nationals who worked in Cologne. She guessed a lot of the people were Jews too. Ava stopped feeling guilty about every passport and visa application she’d sent to be approved when some things didn’t quite add up when the name of the applicant had been on one of the lists from Major Foley via Sara Lance.

Ava slowly shuffled forward. Half a dozen soldiers marched by. All the shops were open now; she could smell food and coffee mingling with the stench of smoke and diesel fumes. There was a toddler having a meltdown, two little girls playing a clapping game, the newspaper sellers still shouting the headlines, a train whistled, people chattering and calling to one another. Ava wanted to cry. It was all too much, and she had never felt so alone. She wished Sara was there to squeeze her hand and tell her everything was going to be all right. All she could do was hope and pray that Sara had got safely to Paris, and was no doubt right now enjoying a breakfast of fresh, buttery pastries and hot coffee with the Palmers, calmly and safely making plans for her onward journey.

Every time anyone nudged her or pushed past, Ava jumped, thinking that it was the Gestapo coming to get her. She kept her head down and shuffled forward with the crowd, hoping she was in the right queue, hoping they wouldn’t ask too many questions. Not that she had any concerns about the language, more that speaking too much would bring her to tears, then the authorities would get suspicious and come and take her away. What would she spill first - the amount of documents she’d helped to falsify get Jews to America, or her relationship with Sara? Which was the bigger crime? What if they pressed her for information on Sara? Ava didn’t even know who Sara really worked for. Why couldn’t she tell Sara she loved her too? What if Ava got stuck here?

“Nächster bitte,” the ticket seller said, pulling Ava from her reverie as she realised she’d made it to the front of the queue.

A quick conversation confirmed that there were no tickets to Paris available until the 7th. “What about Brussels?” Ava asked in German, hoping the ticker seller wasn’t really part of the Gestapo, about to question her change of plans.

“Tomorrow afternoon, 12:35,” the man said, completely unfazed by Ava’s change of destination and the crowds of people trying to get out of the city.

“I’ll take it,” Ava said, handing over the money.

Ten minutes later, Ava was out on the streets of Cologne, now in search of a hotel as near to the station as she could find. She didn’t have to look for long, but she was sure the man at the desk saw right through her. As a woman travelling alone she was suspicious, wasn’t she? Ava freshened up in the small room, half wanting to barricade herself in until the next day, but knowing she needed to eat. Sara wouldn’t like it if she didn’t take care of herself, and she wasn’t here to force Ava out to eat something and go for a walk.

Ava forced herself out, ate a lunch that she hardly tasted at a gasthaus, but felt better afterwards, realising it had been over 24 hours since she’d had a proper meal. She went for a short walk around the quaint city, trying to admire the architecture and floral hanging baskets, trying to distract herself from the Swastika flags and military men by thinking what she’d want to point out to Sara. She thought of the jokes and rude comments Sara would make under her breathe. Ava found herself back near the station and Cathedral, and went inside.

Inside the Cathedral was spectacular gothic building with stunning stained glass windows, but better than that it was quiet, peaceful and calm, and there wasn’t a Swastika in sight. This was the first time she’d been inside a church since Notre Dame in Paris with Sara back in March. Ava sat down in one of the pews and allowed herself to rest.

…

After arriving in Calais, booking a ticket for the ferry the following morning, and finding her way to the hotel Nora had kindly written ahead to arrange, Sara was still full of restless, nervous energy. Ava hadn’t arrived in Paris, and Sara’s anxiety was growing. She went to the post office to send a quick telegram to the Palmers to say she had arrived and all was well, and to Gideon telling her to expect her in London the following evening. There were no ferries running overnight, and Sara preferred to travel by day when possible, both for matters of safety, and because she suffered from seasickness which was exacerbated by not being able to see the horizon at night or in foul weather.

Sara walked along the windy streets, not wanting to go too far, but not wanting to be constantly reminded of the war by the French soldiers who seemed to be pouring into the town.

There had been rumours in Paris that Germany was closing all it’s borders to anyone on a foreign passport, regardless of country of origin and whether or not they had valid paperwork. Sara had had to leave before Ray could get confirmation from the Embassy on any of these rumours, but it was enough to increase Sara’s uneasiness. The train ride across north-east France was hardly the most scenic in the country at the best of times, and the further west she’d travelled through the fairly monotonous green countryside, the further Sara’s mind had wandered.

With rumours of the border closures had come another unspoken possibility which was more likely than the borders being closed outright: that of the border guards making crossing difficult, especially for anyone who looked vulnerable, and a woman travelling alone was that exactly. Sara had been prepared to perform favours if that was what had been required to get into France, but she wasn’t even sure Ava would understand what she was being asked if put in that situation. Sara cursed herself for not being their to protect Ava from any such possibilities. If Ava refused any favours, her papers could be invalidated, and she might be taken for questioning. And if they took her away for questioning…

Sara couldn’t let her mind go there. She concentrated on the sea, the waves lapping against the sand, the soldiers setting up barbed wire where only weeks before the local children would have run and played. Tomorrow Sara would be back in London, reunited with part of her team, but further away from Ava. Sara quickened her pace, as though walking faster would speed up time and take her away from the dark thoughts which followed her.

…

Tuesday, 5th September, 1939

It was late afternoon by time Ava arrived in Brussels. She had never been so afraid as she had when the train stopped for the customs officials to board when the train passed from Germany into Belgium. Ava had been afraid she was going to vomit when the guards entered her carriage and began checking everyone’s passports and paperwork, but they’d only taken a quick glance at her American passport, nodded, and kept moving. It dawned on Ava that they had been looking for people who fit a certain stereotype, and as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American, she wasn’t it. Despite that, even now outside of Germany, Ava couldn’t relax. What if Herr Hitler suddenly decided to invade the Rhineland? Or France? Or Belgium? He could do it tonight. Just march in. No one was expecting it, no one was ready, and no one knew what would happen if he did.

Ava stood in yet another ticket queue, biting her nails as she kept a close eye on the time, praying she’d get to the front before the ticket booths closed for the day. Panic threatened to overtake her as Ava realised that the ticket salesman might not speak German or English, and Ava had left her French phrase book in Berlin. He’d understand when she said she’d need a ticket to Calais, wouldn’t he? Ava watched time tick by, slightly cursing that it would be too late to find a post office and send word to Sara that she was in Belgium. Had Sara made it to London? Was she still in Paris? Should Ava try to go to Paris, or just make for London?

Eventually Ava made it to the front of the queue, and thankfully the clerk spoke German. The train to Calais left at 8:20 in the morning, again not leaving enough time to visit a post office, but Ava didn’t care. She wanted to get as far away from Germany as she could. She wanted Sara. She needed to find a hotel for the night and something to eat.

…

Sara hadn’t realised she’d fallen asleep on the train until it jolted to a stop at Waterloo Station. She’d hardly gotten any sleep in the hotel in Calais, and her sleep the night prior at the Palmer’s could be described as disrupted at best. She quickly pulled on her coat, grabbed her suitcase and satchel and made her way off the train. Within moments of stepping off the train, Sara saw a familiar figure coming towards her.

“I left her, Gideon,” Sara said, choking on her words as emotion threatened to overwhelm her as Gideon wrapped her arms around her. “I left Ava behind and I…”

“Welcome home, Captain,” Gideon said, holding Sara tightly. "You’re here, and you’re safe, and we will figure this out. Now, stiff upper lip, you’re not to cry at the station, that’s an order.”

Sara took a shuddering breath and composed herself as Gideon let go, taking Sara’s suitcase from her.

“Evening, Cap," Charlie grinned, throwing her arms around Sara. “I am glad to see you.”

“Same here,” Sara said, holding onto Charlie.

“Let’s get the Captain home, fed, washed and into bed. There’s nothing to be done now,” Gideon said briskly.

Charlie took Sara by the hand as Gideon led the way out of the station.

“Has she always walked that quickly, or am I just noticing it now?” Charlie asked, as Gideon made a bee-line for the exit.

“She always has. You should have seen how she’d pop up everywhere in the Embassy.”

"I think she's been a bit tense since she got back. Been working a lot, plus worrying about you. The last week has been chaotic for everyone. I am very much looking forward to this weekend."

"I'm sure," Sara said.

“Are you all right?” Charlie asked gently, as they tried to keep up with Gideon.

“No,” Sara said softly. “I - god, Charlie, it’s breaking my heart.”

Charlie squeezed Sara’s hand, failing to find any words of comfort that would sound anything but empty.

They didn’t talk during the cab ride to Gideon’s townhouse. Sara stared out the window, watching London go by; crossing Westminster Bridge over the Thames, passing the Houses of Parliament, going around the back of Whitehall, the lights that usually lit up St James’s Park dark. The cab drove part way down The Mall before winding through the narrower streets of St James, crossing Piccadilly into Mayfair. Sara clenched her jaw, wishing Ava was by her side, wishing she could be pointing out the landmarks and her favourite haunts and recalling tales of times past. But Ava wasn’t there. They didn’t know where Ava was. Sara closed her eyes and prayed to anyone who might be listening to let Ava make it back to her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! Many thanks to everyone reading for all your support :)

Wednesday, 6th September, 1939

“I’m not going to say ‘rise and shine’ or force you out of bed, but you do need to wake up now,” Zari said, pulling open the curtains in Sara’s bedroom.

It took Sara a moment to remember where she was, taking in the familiar blue sheets, the pale wallpaper, and heavy, and old-fashioned curtains. There was a vase of flowers on the bedside table, and her boxes and bags were piled up beside the door. Sara had slept deeply and without dreaming, but still felt tired, the pain in her chest still prevailed. She rolled over away from Zari and the windows and pulled the covers up over her head.

“Gideon and Charlie have just left for Whitehall,” Zari said, “Charlie having a real job and Gideon pretending to. She’s getting herself re-established. No one knows what’s going to happen, but Gideon is not about to let herself or us be sidelined. Not that Herr Hitler seems overly concerned with Britain or France at the moment, but once he takes Poland, he’ll either turn on the Soviets, or head this way. People are calling it a ‘phoney war’, but that’s only because it’s not happening here. Not yet, anyway. Besides, it’s only been a few days.”

Sara felt the mattress shift as Zari climbed up onto the bed and settled beside her. There were two soft thuds as Zari kicked off her shoes.

“I don’t need babysitting,” Sara mumbled.

“Well, Gideon seems to think so, and regardless I’m not leaving you alone. I haven’t seen you since March, Sara Lance. Plus, it’s a nice enough day. We’ll go for a walk later this morning, then I need to pop into Fortnum’s for a few things, and I have a book needing to be collected from Hatchard’s.”

“Get home delivery,” Sara grumbled into the pillow.

“Mmm,” Zari said, “But I’m also wearing a new dress which I want to show off.”

“Go prance around Piccadilly by yourself,” Sara said, wanting to be left alone to feel sorry for herself. She hadn’t spoken much to Gideon or Charlie the night before, just eating, bathing and getting into bed as quickly as she could.

“You’ll come with me,” Zari said.

Sara sighed, knowing that she would, but couldn’t help but wish that Ava was there too. She wasn’t sure if thinking about Ava made her feel better or worse. Sara wanted to show Ava all the fancy townhouses around Mayfair, the swans on the Serpentine in Hyde Park, the posh stores along Piccadilly and in the neighbouring arcades.

“Your pillows are annoying,” Zari said, adjusting the pillows so she was comfortably propped against the headboard of the bed. Sara ignored her, listening to the rustling of newspaper pages. There was silence for a few minutes and Sara found herself drifting back to sleep.

“Seven letters, second letter E… oh, got it,” Zari said.

Sara sighed, awake again. Again there was silence for a few minutes, before a thud on the floor and the rustling of a second newspaper.

“This one’s harder,” Zari said. “Type of measurement of… got it.”

“You’re thinking out loud,” Sara said.

“So? Eight letters, ends with a W. Oh, ‘tomorrow’,” Zari said, her pencil scratching against the newspaper as she wrote the letters into the boxes.

“I told her I loved her and I left her behind,” Sara breathed, her voice breaking.

Zari put down the newspaper. “Sara…”

Sara sat up and saw the headline on the newspaper: POLES BOMB BERLIN. Sara felt as though she’d been stabbed in the stomach and all the colour drain from her face.

“Sara?” Zari asked, and followed Sara’s gaze to the newspaper. “Sara, look at me,” Zari said, flipping the newspaper over and dropping it on the floor. “We don’t know that she’s still there. We…”

“I left her behind. Oh, god, what have I done?” Sara sobbed, her voice cracking.

Zari pulled Sara into her arms and held her tightly, allowing Sara to cry. She didn’t bother offering words of comfort and Zari wasn’t even sure what it was Sara most needed to hear. After twenty minutes Sara calmed down.

“I guess I better have breakfast,” Sara mumbled, feeling defeated and helpless.

“It’s nearly ten o’clock, so yes, you definitely need breakfast,” Zari said, slowly letting go of Sara. “Then we’re going to unpack your things, find you something to wear, and _then_ go for a walk. We can lunch at The Ritz.”

“I’m happy with Lyons,” Sara sitting up properly and wiping her eyes on the sheet.

“We can be average another day,” Zari said.

Sara chuckled despite herself. “All right, you win. I’m still going to be upset with myself and… it hurts, Zari. It hurts a lot.”

“I know,” Zari said, sliding out of bed and pulling her shoes back on. “And I know I can’t make it go away, and all we can do is wait and hope to hear from Ava. If she was already at the station, then surely she wouldn’t have stayed. We all know you don’t fair to well when you’re miserable and alone, so whatever I can do to help…”

“Thank-you Zari,” Sara said, mustering as much of a smile as she could manage. “Really.”

“Come here,” Zari said, holding out her arms.

Sara crawled across the bed and stepped into Zari’s hug.

“I’m really glad you’re back in London. We have a lot of catching up to do,” Zari said, squeezing Sara.

“I know,” Sara said, grateful for Zari’s strong embrace. “All things considered, there’s no where else I’d rather be.”

…

The train leaving Brussels was delayed. Ava didn’t dare leave the station knowing that the train would show up as soon as she did, and tried to keep the departures board in sight where DIFFÉRÉ/VERSPÄTET was written below the train for Lille, where she would swap for the service to Calais, though no explanation as to the reason for the delay was given. There was a small post-office inside the station, but the queue was immense and Ava couldn’t see the departures board from the queue. Sara would know she was coming, Ava convinced herself.

Lunchtime approached. Ava scarcely noticed what she ate, knowing only she had to eat something. Still no train. Rumours were flying around the station as to why certain trains were delayed. Something about issues at the border. Something about the French. Something about Nazi planes. Ava had no idea what any of these rumours had to do with her train, but had never felt so alone.

At half past two, Ava found herself in the main hall, queuing again at the ticket booths for information as much as anything. The rumours continued. There were no trains coming in from the Netherlands. There were only trains coming from the Netherlands. The German border had been closed. The French had bombed a Germany border checkpoint. The Germans had bombed a Belgium border checkpoint. Berlin had been bombed. Leipzig had been bombed. There’d been a massacre in Warsaw. Ava wondered if she was a refugee. She wanted to cry.

Ava made it to the front of the queue. The man in the booth only spoke limited German, but enough to tell Ava to hold onto her ticket, and catch the same train tomorrow. He stamped and marked the ticket.

“Will the train definitely be running tomorrow?” Ava asked.

“Suivant, s’il-vous-plaît!” the clerk said, ignoring Ava’s question. She was brushed aside by the next person in the queue.

Ava returned to the hotel, exhausted, having slept poorly for almost a week now. She should ask the concierge to send a telegram to Sara. She should find a German-language newspaper to get any idea as to what was going on. She should find the Embassy and see if they could help. Instead she collapsed onto the bed and fell into a restless sleep.

…

Thursday, 7th September, 1939

Sara, Gideon, Charlie and Zari sat in the drawing room of Gideon’s townhouse playing cards. There wasn’t a game Zari didn’t know, and she knew every trick and cheat to all of them as well.

“Careful, Zari, or Gideon will send you to Monte Carlo,” Sara teased as Zari won another round. Though there was still no word from Ava, Sara tried to stay calm, allowing Ava time. Communications were slow, and there were a lot of rumours flying around about issues with border crossings. Sara had to trust that Ava had gotten out of Berlin and was getting herself somewhere safe. She had to believe that Ava was coming, because the alternative was unthinkable.

“Who says she hasn’t already?” Zari asked, collecting the cards to shuffle again.

“Zari, how long do you take to do the crossword in the Telegraph?” Gideon asked, finishing her aperitif.

“I don’t know,” Zari said, collecting the cards.

“Oi, my turn to deal,” Charlie said, holding out her hand.

“Fifteen minutes?” Gideon asked.

“If I take a break,” Zari smiled. “Fine, just don’t drop them this time,” she said, handing over the cards to Charlie.

“Maybe I want to see how quickly you can get down for a round of 52 pick-up,” Charlie smirked.

Sara pulled a face, Zari rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile, and Charlie grinned like the Cheshire Cat as she shuffled the deck.

“Why, Gideon?” Zari asked.

“Just wondering,” Gideon said, standing up as she saw the maid lurking in the hallway with an envelope. They’d heard the front doorbell ring minutes before, most likely with the evening mail.

“We’re going to have to work on your subtlety, Charlie,” Sara said.

“And Gideon’s,” Zari said. “She’s up to something.”

“Cap, unless you’re sending me to Africa, I’m gunna be bloody obvious wherever I go,” Charlie said.

“At least you’ve gotten better at that,” Sara said, watching Charlie shuffle the deck like an expert. “And Gideon’s always up to something.”

“Zari’s taught me a handy trick or two,” Charlie winked.

“That’s it, hand them over,” Zari said horrified, holding out her hand.

Sara laughed. She might be suffering from a broken heart, but she wasn’t about to deny her friends the opportunity to be happy and safe together.

“I’m dealing!” Charlie said. “Oi, Gideon, hurry up!”

“Captain?” Gideon called. “Could you come here a moment, please?” Gideon said.

“Uh oh, what’ve you done now, Cap?” Charlie asked, dealing the cards out onto the table.

Sara stood up and poked her tongue out at Charlie before joining Gideon in the hall. The lighting was softer than in the drawing room, but Sara could see concern on Gideon’s face, and felt her stomach tighten. “What’s wrong?”

“Telegram from Colonel Hunter,” Gideon said calmly and quietly. “They got back to London this afternoon. Henderson, Hunter and the others left at the Embassy on Sunday were interned by the Gestapo.”

“Right,” Sara said apprehensively, not sure where Gideon was going with this.

“Miss Sharpe was at the Embassy on Sunday morning. She played the White Canary card, but there was nothing Hunter could do but tell her to get out the country.”

Sara felt faint.

“Come and sit down,” Gideon said, pocketing the telegram and taking Sara by the hand, pulling her back into the drawing room.

“Gideon, your move. Me and Zari have already gone.”

“Sara, are you…?” Zari asked, putting her cards face-down on the table.

Sara shook her head and sunk onto the couch besides Charlie. “Ava was still in Berlin on the 3rd. She could be anywhere, Gideon,” Sara said, looking at Gideon who had taken her place in her armchair.

Gideon pursed her lips and nodded. Charlie wrapped her arm around Sara, while Zari squeezed in beside Sara and the edge of the couch to take her hands.

“If she’s not out of Germany by now…” Sara began, but her voice cracked and she shook her head.

“Ava’s smart. She will have gotten out,” Zari said, rubbing the back of Sara’s hand with her thumb.

“Z’s right, Captain. She’ll be in touch as soon as she can, because it’s not as though she can just show up at the postoffice wanting to send a telegram to her girl across the channel in the country that’s just declared war against the one she’s stuck in.”

Sara shook her head. “I left her all alone. I…”

“Captain, you gave her every opportunity to go with you,” Gideon said. “Staying any longer would have been irresponsible and put your own life at serious risk. Miss Sharpe is trying to get out, she wouldn’t have played the White Canary card otherwise. Miss Tarazi is right, Miss Sharpe is smart. She will find a way out.”

“If anything happens to her it’s all my fault,” Sara swallowed. She knew Gideon was right, but that didn’t make her feel any better. “If I’d never pulled her into our games…”

“She knew what she was doing,” Gideon said.

Sara shook her head, guilt eating away at her.

“I saw you two at Ray’s wedding, Cap,” Charlie said. “That woman is madly in love with you, even if you can’t say it.”

“I did say it,” Sara whispered, catching Zari’s eye.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“In the Embassy. When I left the tickets. I said it.”

There was silence as Charlie and Gideon took a moment to process Sara’s confession. Zari squeezed Sara’s shoulder. The bell for dinner rang, breaking the silence.

“We will find her, Captain Lance,” Gideon said, standing up and smoothing out her dress. “But let us pray Miss Sharpe finds us first.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Here we go.

Friday, 8th September, 1939

Ava felt nauseous after getting off the ferry, the Channel having been decidedly choppy. She was hungry, but afraid that if she ate, the food would quickly reappear. But here she was, in a country where the cars drove on the other side of the road and the people spoke a language she could understand without thinking. It had been over six years since Ava had left America and been in an English-speaking country, and it felt peculiar to be back somewhere where her native language was, well, native. She made her way from the docks to the train station and joined the small but orderly queue. The man in the booth spoke English with a local accent. The train to Waterloo left in fifteen minutes, he said, and gave Ava directions to the post office when she asked.

Ava stood in another orderly queue at the post office, watching the time. She didn’t have time for this, not really. The lady at the front was chatting away to the man behind the counter. Ava pulled a notepad out of her handbag and scribbled a message. She had no idea how much a telegram cost in pounds and pence and whatever the other coins were. She didn’t even understand how English currency worked.

“Sorry, excuse me. Can you please send that straight away?” she asked, placing the note and a few coins on the counter. “Thank-you,” she added, looking at the confused expressions on the faces of the people in the post office. “Thank-you,” she said again and let herself out, hurrying back to the train station.

…

“I’m gunna beat ya, Zari,” Charlie grinned, tapping her foot against the floor in excitement.

Charlie, Zari, Gideon and Sara sat in the drawing room playing cards before dinner as was quickly becoming their routine.

“The game’s not over until it’s over,” Zari said primly, “Besides, it’s Gideon’s turn.”

“And that sounds like the evening mailman,” Charlie said as they heard a knock at the door.

“Let me see to that,” Gideon said, standing up.

“Aw, no, come on Gideon!” Charlie complained, "Can’t you have your turn first so I can finally beat Zari? Ugh, now we just have to wait.”

“Don’t pout,” Zari teased. “And who knows, maybe whatever card Gideon plays will foil all your plans.”

“Not likely.”

“Well, we’re playing best of three, anyway,” Zari said. “And you know I always end up on top.”

Sara groaned and rolled her eyes. Charlie smirked and bit her lip.

“Captain?” Gideon said, returning to the drawing room with a telegram in her hand. “It’s for you.”

Sara put down her cards and jumped up to take the telegram.

CAPT S LANCE 45 GROSVENOR SQ LONDON  
ARRIVED IN DOVER 5 15 TO WATERLOO   
YOUR GIRL AS

Sara stared at the telegram in her hands.

“Sara?” Zari asked. “Who’s it from?”

“She called me Captain,” Sara breathed, her heart bursting back to life after seemingly stopping for the few seconds it took her to read and register what the telegram meant. “Ava called me Captain!”

“What?” Charlie asked.

“She’s here?”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s on the 5:15 from Dover. Gideon, we have to go!” Sara cried.

Gideon chuckled. “If we leave now, we’ll be at Waterloo about two hours too early. We’ll eat dinner, then we can go.”

Sara nodded, trying to blink back tears as relief surged through her body. Ava was here. She was really here, in England, on her way to London right now.

“Come here,” Zari said, standing up and pulling Sara in for a hug. “See, we told you she’d come.”

“Group hug! You too, Gideon,” Charlie said, grabbing Gideon and forcing her to hold Sara and Zari as well. “See Cap! She came. Of course she came.”

Sara was glad she had her friends holding her up, afraid that she’d collapse if they let her go. “I - I’m…”

“It’s quite all right, Captain,” Gideon said, letting go. “Now let’s all go and eat, then go and get the Captain here back her girl.”

…

Ava stared out the window of the train, watching the green countryside of Kent go by. The train seemed to stop at every tiny station, at which apparently no one got on or off at, and tired and hungry as she was, this was trying Ava’s patience. She was sure there must be express trains, but of course she had managed to board the stopping-all-stations service. Ava crossed her arms and scowled at the scenery, until it struck her that the train probably had some sort of dining carriage.

Twenty minutes later, Ava sat back in her seat, full and contented. The food served in the buffet carriage was hot, edible and ludicrously overpriced, but at least she wasn’t going to starve. Ava enjoyed her final glimpses of the passing countryside as night rolled in, and darkness rolled over the countryside. The train was stopping even more regularly now, with the towns closer together, so Ava assumed they were getting closer to London and thereby Sara. Ava smiled to herself and couldn’t help but be comforted at the thought.

…

Sara and Gideon stood watching the arrivals board, waiting to find out which platform the train Ava was most likely to be on would be pulling into, and at what time exactly it was expected. Sara shuffled impatiently, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Stand still,” Gideon said.

“No,” Sara replied, not knowing what to do with her arms either. Zari and Charlie had stayed back at Gideon’s house, not wanting to swamp Ava when she arrived at the station, and Zari insisted on helping Charlie oversee the bedroom beside Sara’s get made up for Ava’s imminent arrival.

“Not that she’ll be sleeping in there, but the sentiment’s nice,” Charlie had smirked.

“It’s going to be all right, Captain,” Gideon said, gazing up at the board, perfectly composed as usual. “She’s coming. Right now, Miss Sharpe will likely have crossed the Home Counties and be somewhere in the southern section of Greater London.”

Sara nodded, though she couldn’t relax until she saw Ava for real. The initial relief from receiving the telegram had worn off, and now she was feeling anxious again, folding and unfolding her arms, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“And Captain?” Gideon said. “You know can’t really kiss her at the station.”

“I’m not stupid, Gideon,” Sara said, as the station assistant came up to the board and added in the platform number and arrival time for what was likely to be Ava’s train. “Let’s go,” Sara said, leading Gideon down the concourse.

Ten minutes later the train pulled in, and people began to alight. Sara scanned the passengers for Ava, finally spotting her almost tripping down the stairs as she climbed out of the carriage. “There,” Sara said, feeling emotion rising in her throat as she nodded towards Ava. Sara and Gideon walked briskly down the platform, Sara beaming. “Ava!”

Ava looked int heir direction and saw Sara and Gideon coming towards her. “Did you see me nearly fall out of the train?” she asked, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Who cares?” Sara said, standing in front of Ava, taking a moment just to look at her. Ava looked completely exhausted, her clothes were crumpled, her hat looked like it had been sat on, and her hair was falling out of it’s usually perfect bun. Sara reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair behind Ava’s ear.

“Welcome to London, Miss Sharpe. I’ll take that,” Gideon said, taking Ava’s suitcase from her. “Right ho, Captain,” she said, turning on her heel and making for the exit.

“Should we…?” Ava began, watching Gideon make for the exit.

“Fuck it, Gideon’s not looking and it’s not as though she really cares,” Sara said, and threw her arms around Ava’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Ava melted into Sara’s embrace, wrapping her arms around Sara’s waist and holding onto her while pressing her lips tightly to Sara’s. Neither of them wanted to let go, holding each other in their passionate embrace.

A station guard walked past and cleared his throat.

Sara opened her eyes and pulled back from Ava, meeting the guard’s eye. The young man met Sara’s gaze, blushed furiously and hurried away.

“Come on,” Sara said, resting her forehead against Ava’s. “We better go or Gideon will get impatient and catch a cab without us.”

It took a moment for Ava to process what they’d just done. “Wait, we… that guard he…”

“There’s no laws here against two girls kissing,” Sara said. “Yes, it’s pushing the boundaries a bit, or a lot, really, but the worst that will happen is getting some dirty looks and the odd insult shouted at you. No one is going to arrest us or take us away, Ava.”

Ava nodded, tears in her eyes.

“Come on,” Sara said again, taking Ava by the hand and leading her down the platform. “It’s time to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Thank-you so much for reading, and all the kudos and comments. I have loved writing this story, and binge wrote a lot of it. Once I had a couple of pieces of the story, everything else just fell into place, including certain historical people/events that fitted into the story perfectly. I've already started writing another Avalance story set post-season 5, but can't make any guarantees either way about more stories in this universe. Thanks once again for coming along for the ride on this story :)


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